


Cataclysm

by Macx



Series: Seismic [3]
Category: Tremors: The Series
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-12
Updated: 2011-05-12
Packaged: 2017-10-19 07:48:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/198570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macx/pseuds/Macx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You don't capture Shriekers. You kill them. Because Shriekers produce more Shriekers. And more... and more...</p><p>Colonel Burt Gummer is asked to return to active duty when Shriekers lay waste to the town of Coronado. Together with Tyler he travels to San Diego to get an eye on the situation... and is horrified of the extent of the damage already done.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cataclysm

****by: Macx and Lara Bee

 

Neither Lara nor I have ever been to San Diego or Coronado, so we already apologize to those who have been. Sorry, sorry, sorry… we just needed a West Coast city to let lose some Shriekers and trash the place… <g>  
   
   
   
   
Tyler woke to the absence of his lover from their bed and he rolled onto his side, facing the empty spot beside him. Burt had apparently gotten up before him and was currently nowhere to be seen. There were noises coming from outside the bedroom door and he suspected the other man was busy checking the equipment, his usual morning ritual. Smiling to himself, Tyler stretched leisurely, enjoying the brief reminder of last night’s encounter. A more southern part raised its voice and announced it wouldn’t mind a repeat performance right around now, but to peel Burt away from his surveillance equipment would need more than a naked Tyler Reed.  
Well, he had never tried, but Gummer was rather fanatic about the whole set-up. He monitored their resident Graboid 24/7 and it was his first check in the morning and most of the times the last before going to bed – unless Tyler intervened and got him into bed without it.  
Oh well.  
Tyler got up and padded over to the bathroom where he took a quick shower and shaved. A towel wrapped around the hips, he decided the clothes from yesterday really wouldn’t do it today, so he opened the walk-in wardrobe, where he had started to keep some of his stuff. It paid to be prepared, as Burt always told him, and while Gummer didn’t mean Reed’s clothes in his wardrobe, Tyler had adopted the concept.  
Picking up a pair of jeans and a fresh shirt, Tyler was just about to close the door when something aroused his interest. He had never really looked at what Burt kept in the wardrobe. Mostly it were his trademarks clothes, as well as, woe and behold, a suit, and some shirts. Pushing all the normal gear aside, Reed was slightly dumbstruck.  
A parade uniform. Army. With a whole lot of honor bars and whatnot. Tyler’s father was an Airforce Colonel and he knew rank insignia. Not exactly from the Army, but whatever rank this was, it was a high one.  
Burt Gummer had an Army uniform?  
He knew little about his lover’s military past and though he suspected he had served his country at one time, he had never thought about how long, when and for what. He must have been in service for a while, Tyler mused, running his fingers over the dark green material. But why? When?  
Suddenly the door to the wardrobe was forcefully shut and Tyler started, scared for a second since he had been so lost in thought he hadn’t heard Gummer approach. He met the dark eyes and felt himself tense involuntarily. The expression was foreboding, so intense that it almost hurt to look at him, and Burt’s whole face was a mask.  
"Burt...?“  
"Leave it,“ the older man just said.  
His past. Burt’s past. The reason why he was out here or something else?  
Tyler nodded mutely and stepped back, still holding his own clothes before him. "Sorry,“ he murmured. "Didn’t wanna snoop around.“  
The grim features softened somewhat and Burt briefly hung his head, eyes closed for a fraction of a second. When he looked at his lover again, there was more warmth.  
"It’s nothing I want to talk about right now.“  
Maybe later? Tyler hoped silently.  
Reed carefully touched the taller man and when his hand wasn’t shaken off or Burt stepped back, he rubbed a comforting hand over the tense muscles. The other man looked wordlessly at him, clearly not at ease with Tyler’s discovery.  
"We all came here for a reason,“ Reed said, voice still soft.  
Burt exhaled slowly, then nodded. "Coffee’s ready,“ he finally said.  
Tyler smiled. "Just let me get dressed.“  
There was suddenly a playful look in the brown eyes, chasing away the dark shadows of before. "Don’t bother on my account.“  
The younger man grinned cheekily. "Oh really? I’d probably freeze my butt off out there.“  
Burt’s fingers skimmed over the rim of the towel and Tyler felt a flash of excitement run through him.  
"I can think of a few ways to keep that butt warm.“  
Tyler closed the distance between them, feeling Burt’s fingers against the naked skin of his stomach, still playing with the towel.  
"I bet you can,“ he murmured seductively.  
And then the towel was suddenly gone and he melted against the taller man as their lips found each other.  
Well, he mused through a haze of suddenly erupting lust, maybe there would be a repeat performance.  
Strong hands grabbing his butt, a still clothed leg pushing between his, let him gasp out loud.  
Screw the maybe! Make it a definitely!  
And then the last coherent thought fled as Burt Gummer decided to heat things up a little more.

 * * *  
   
Things had been quiet in Perfection Valley. Too quiet, as Burt sometimes remarked, but Tyler enjoyed it. His business was running, the new truck was a dream, and even the last reminders of his almost fatal accident had mostly disappeared. The scar would stay, of course, but he didn’t mind it any longer. He had full use of his leg; that was what counted.  
So it was with a frown of suspicion that he noticed the car pull up in front of the store and the suspicion doubled when a man in his mid-thirties, dressed up in an Army uniform, got out.  
Tyler watched the stranger take a look around their little town, sizing it up, then walk briskly over to the store. Tyler was currently sitting in his favorite chair on the porch, legs up against the post, and he kept an alert eye on the man as he entered. Seeing an Army uniform twice in three days definitely wasn’t a good sign, and remembering Burt’s reaction to his discovery, it surely meant bad news.  
Letting the chair fall back onto its four feet, he got up and followed.  
The newcomer looked around the store the same way he had at the town, then his eyes fell on Burt, who was enjoying a cup of coffee and his magazine at one of the tables.  
"Colonel Gummer, sir?“  
Burt looked up from his reading and raised his eyebrows, not impressed.  
Tyler just blinked. Had he just called Burt 'colonel’?  
"Lieutenant Sanderson,“ the army officer introduced himself, snapping a salute.  
"I don’t know where you got your information from, Lieutenant, but Colonel Gummer has retired.“  
"You’ve been reassigned, sir.“  
"By whom?“  
"The President.“  
"The president of what?“ Jodi asked, coming around the counter with a plate of food. Her eyes were narrowed in suspicion.  
"That would be the President of the United States, Ma’am.“  
Tyler glanced from the lieutenant in his crisp uniform to Burt, who radiated complete disinterest, returning his attention back to the magazine he was reading and his coffee.  
"No one told me,“ Gummer remarked, not even bothering to look at the Lieutenant, who seemed to feel a bit insecure.  
"You were sent a communiqué, sir.“  
"Nope.“  
"Sir...“  
"Lieutenant Sanderson, go back home to Washington and tell George I’m not interested. My retirement was final.“  
"I beg to differ, Colonel. You retired under the premise to be recalled into service if your country needs you.“  
Burt pushed back his cap, smiling humorlessly. "My country?“  
"Yes, sir. The United States of America.“  
"So you guys screwed up again and want me to put out the fires?“  
"Something like it, Sir.“  
"Not interested.“ Burt resumed his reading.  
Tyler sat up straighter and looked at Sanderson. "Uh, what do you want Burt for?“  
"That’s confidential, Mr. Reed.“  
Burt chuckled dryly and shook his head. "Isn’t it always,“ he murmured.  
"How do you know my name?“ Tyler asked suspiciously.  
Sanderson smiled humorlessly but didn’t comment. Instead, he turned to Burt.  
"We need your expertise.“  
"On what?“  
The man hesitated, then pressed his lips together. "We have a situation involving Shriekers.“  
That got Burt’s attention. His brows dipped into a suspicious frown. "Shriekers?“  
"Yes, sir. We were examining a specimen in a research lab and it... got out.“  
The paper was slammed onto the table. "You did what?“ Burt exploded. "How many times do I have to preach it to you guys that it’s not a good idea to leave these things alive!?“  
Tyler rose with his lover, placing a hand on his chest to keep him from possibly throttling the lieutenant. "What happened?“ he asked.  
"As I said, the Shrieker escaped and evaded all our attempts to capture it.“  
"You don’t capture Shriekers! You hunt them down and you kill them!“ Gummer snarled.  
Tyler patted his chest, pushing him back a little while still looking at Sanderson.  
"It... multiplied.“  
"That’s what they do!“ Burt snapped. "Graboids turn into Shriekers and Shriekers produce more Shriekers! It’s a known fact! Read—the—papers!“  
"Where?“ Reed asked.  
"San Diego.“  
Both men stared and Jodi put down a plate much harder than she had planned to.  
"San Diego?“ she echoed, voice rising. "You people are nuts!“  
Burt looked triumphantly at her. "I hate to say I told you so, but... I told you! That’s the government for you!“  
"There’s Shriekers lose in San Diego?“ Tyler whispered, horrified by the sheer thought.  
"Well, to be more precise, in Coronado."  
"Holy shit!"  
Jodi stared at the man, disbelief in her eyes. "Coronado isn't exactly Perfection!" she exclaimed. "What happened to the people?"  
"The National Guard and the Army evacuated them," was the almost simple reply.  
"Thousands of people?"  
"About twenty-six, yes."  
Tyler gaped. Twenty-six thousand people… "Where to?"  
"Wherever we could."  
He glanced at Burt, who was watching Sanderson with narrowed eyes.  
"How many were left behind? How many old or infirm? Did you even bother to look for those missing?"  
Sanderson's face hardened. "Colonel Gummer, we did what we could in the time we had. Evacuation started almost immediately and the area was contained. The Shrieker outbreak was in one sector only, but we moved everyone out of the danger zone."  
"How many are there now?" Gummer demanded.  
"Our estimated guesses are that the Shriekers have multiplied to a size of about three hundred by now.“  
Tyler sat down heavily. "Three hundred,“ he murmured in disbelief.  
"Yes, well... Our men had little success eradicating them. It’s why I came here, sir. You are the foremost expert on these creatures, Colonel.“  
Burt snorted.  
"You are, actually, our last hope.“  
"And if I say no?“ Gummer wanted to know.  
"Then the President is forced to use the last option.“  
Burt shot him a 'do tell or I’ll make you’ look. The lieutenant fidgeted slightly.  
"Napalm, sir.“  
And that news dropped like a proverbial bomb.

 * * *  
   
Burt hadn't really thought long about his decision. The image of a napalm-bombed town was enough to make him shed his mantle of suspicion and do what he had been asked to: rejoin the ranks. If there was something to stop that insane plan, he would do it. If they threw napalm on Coronado, no one would ever be able to live there again. The chemicals alone would be enough to contaminate the water for a long time to come, not to mention what the high explosive charge would do to the infrastructure.  
But there was one condition.  
A condition Sanderson accepted with such ease that Burt knew that the lieutenant had been told to do whatever was necessary to get Burt to Coronado.

"You want me to come along?“ Tyler asked, almost gaping.  
"Affirmative.“  
They stood outside the store. Lieutenant Sanderson was still inside where Burt had left him, and he was currently enjoying a cup of Jodi’s coffee – sold to him at the twice the normal price. Jodi Chang was out to make a profit off their bearer of bad news.  
"Burt… that’s an Army operation. The President asked for you, not me!“  
"I’m asking for you and George can say what he wants,“ was the simple answer.  
"Burt…“  
Intense eyes stopped Tyler. "I think Twitchell once put it like that: I need a handler.“  
Tyler opened his mouth to protest the derogative term. "Burt…“  
"He’s right.“  
"No…“  
"I’m not good with people,“ Gummer said calmly.  
"Well, it’s the military. I doubt you need a… handler.“  
"Tyler… let’s just leave it at 'I need you with me’.“  
It was a confession of epic proportions and there was nothing Reed could say against it. He nodded.  
"Okay,“ he answered, smiling slightly. "You got me.“  
"Thank you.“ It was uttered so softly, Tyler almost missed it.

 * * *  
   
Tyler didn’t need long to pack his things. Two pairs of jeans, a few shirts, boots, jacket. That was it. Locking the garage doors, he threw his bag into the back of Burt’s car, then they headed off to the bunker.  
Gummer never said a word and Tyler didn’t ask any questions. He was thinking about the situation they were about to be thrown into. Shriekers lose in Coronado. His neck hair prickled and he had a bad feeling about this, but he couldn’t put his finger on what exactly didn’t sit well with him.  
Maybe because it was the Army that had called on them. Well, no, they had called on Burt. Colonel Burt Gummer. He was along for the ride because his partner had made it part of the deal. But maybe it was also because the Army hadn’t managed to contain the Shrieker problem; that they needed their help. The antisocial paramilitary paranoid and a self-employed tour guide.  
Yes, that was most likely the problem gnawing at Reed. The US government relied on them to solve a problem that no amount of firepower had been able to take care of – and which their only solution to was to bomb Coronado into the ground.  
Wonderful.  
Burt parked the car inside the fence surrounding the bunker and they got out. Tyler wordlessly followed him downstairs and he watched as his lover quickly and efficiently packed only the barest necessities.  
Burt suddenly looked at him, a strange expression in his dark eyes.  
"This will be bad, hm?“ Tyler asked quietly.  
The other man nodded briskly. "Yeah.“  
Why else would anyone reassign Burt as a Colonel and send him into a minefield like Coronado? They were hoping for a miracle.  
Suddenly Burt closed the distance and wrapped his hand around Tyler’s neck, pulling him into a kiss. Tyler didn’t resist, just answered the need for contact, and when he looked at his lover again, he saw something in there he couldn’t interpret.  
There was a low thrumming sound and Tyler looked up.  
"Our transport,“ Gummer said calmly.  
Oh yeah, the helicopter, Reed thought.  
Burt locked everything down, then they made their way up once more. Just outside the fence stood an Army green helicopter, the pilot sitting at the controls and a man in a green jumpsuit saluting them as they climbed aboard.  
"Sir!“ he called.  
Burt nodded once, then settled down, head resting against the cold metal wall.  
Tyler just sat down beside him.  
With a whine, the rotors started to spin ever-quickening circles overhead, dust and sand rising up around the helicopter as the engine gathered more speed. Tyler, seated in one of the four passenger seats, listened to the crackle in his earphones as the pilot talked to some unseen operator. Burt sat at his side, eyes hidden behind his ever-present glasses, and his face gave nothing away.  
Through the windows, Tyler watched the desert drop away, Burt's bunker hidden underneath a swirl of dust. He watched the shadow of the machine chase over the empty landscape, racing toward the coast. He felt strangely out of touch with himself as he followed the landscape below until the helicopter rose higher and higher, everything below just a mere memory now.  
They landed at the Marine Corps Air Station at Miramar, outside the immediate city of San Diego and more people snapped to attention as Burt walked across the landing pad and into the closest building. Tyler just tagged along, absorbing everything, feeling strangely like he had been thrown back into his own past. He had never served, but he had grown up to hate the strict and cold environment. It had been the horror of his childhood… always moving around because his father was transferred, never a lot of friends, always new schools, and his relationship with his father… he smiled wryly. There had been none.  
Someone had awaited them and greeted Burt the same way as everyone had.  
"Colonel.“  
"At ease, Lieutenant.“  
"General McBain is expecting you.“  
Burt looked slightly surprised, but simply nodded. "Jack McBain, hm?“ he mused as they followed the lieutenant into the building and down the corridor.  
"Friend of yours?“ Tyler asked curiously.  
"I know him.“  
And that was all the explanation he got. Reed sighed to himself. Like pulling worms…  
Their guide led them to an office room, where they were already expected. The office was large, with a conference table in the middle, a map of San Diego and especially Coronado on one wall, and a view of the base. Aside from the general, who Tyler easily recognized from the rank insignia, two people in civilian clothes sat and waited.  
"General McBain,“ Burt said, saluting, though it wasn’t exactly brisk and very military.  
"Colonel Gummer,“ McBain replied, returning the greeting. Sharp eyes settled on Tyler. "Mr. Reed, I presume.“  
As if the guy needed to know, Tyler thought. That man probably knew more about him already than his own mother. Military types—he knew the drill. Still, he nodded.  
"Well, then we can begin. Gentlemen, please take a seat.“  
Frowning, Burt chose a chair and sat down, radiating tense wariness. Tyler simply took the one next to him.  
"First of all, thank you for coming, Colonel.“  
Burt smiled wryly. "How could I resist such an invitation, General.“  
McBain chuckled, then grew serious and his demeanor changed slightly. "We really need your help, Burt.“  
Reed sat up straighter, frowning.  
"Your Lieutenant Sanderson told me about your A level fuck-up already.“  
Tyler winced slightly at Burt’s harsh words, but he kept his mouth shut. McBain just smiled again.  
"You always had a way with words, Burt.“  
"I’m saying it like it is. Keeping a Shrieker alive is criminal, Jack, and you know it as well as I do. These things are killing machines that don’t need much to multiply. And the number I heard was three hundred.“  
"Actually, Colonel, we managed to eliminate some of them already,“ one of the civilians spoke up.  
Burt transferred a dark look at the man. "And who are you?“  
"Dr. Markus Saterra.“  
"Dr. Saterra and his colleague, Dr. Cary Lamberts, are the two lead scientists on the Shrieker project,“ McBain explained.  
Tyler felt almost sorry for the two men as Gummer shot them lethally dark looks.  
"So you eliminated a few of the three hundred Shriekers already? Tell me, how much food is in Coronado? Readily available for these things? How long do you think the flock will need to replenish their numbers?“  
Lamberts coughed slightly and evaded the brown eyes.  
"Everyone has been evacuated, Burt,“ McBain drew Gummer’s attention back to him. "There’s nothing there but the Shriekers.“  
"And whoever you didn’t get out fast enough. Tell me, how many people had to die already?“ Burt snapped.  
"Burt,“ the general said, voice deceptively soft. "We called you because we know you’re the foremost expert on these things. How they hunt, how they work, how to kill them. Apparently, with Mr. Reed we have a second expert. What I need you to do is eradicate the numbers. If you fail, there’s no other option but the Napalm.“  
Burt’s face was a controlled mask, his lips a thin white line. Tyler had never seen the man like this. Gone was the paramilitary survivalist; this was Colonel Burt Gummer, United States Army.  
"You’ll get whatever you need,“ McBain went on. "You have the Army and especially the Marines under your command.“  
"Full command?“ Burt asked briskly.  
"Full command,“ was the reply.  
"Good. You’ll get a list of my requirements the moment I’m in the base camp.“  
All business, Tyler thought. In a way, it was frightening.  
"You have six days, Burt,“ McBain added calmly. "After that, we have to use the last option.“  
Burt frowned. "Six days?“  
The general nodded.  
Asshole, Tyler thought and read the same in Burt’s body language.

An hour later they were on their way to Coronado.

 * * *  
   
The Base Camp had been set up outside the city and Tyler looked curiously at the bustle of men and women around them. The camp consisted of numerous tents and quickly assembled huts, as well as dozens of vehicles and even a tank. Their helicopter took off immediately and both men turned to their welcome committee.  
"Colonel Gummer,“ a burly man in a Marines outfit greeted them. "Major Hayek.“  
"Major,“ Burt replied, starting to walk toward the camp.  
"Mr. Reed,“ Hayek nodded at Tyler.  
"Uh, hi,“ he muttered.  
The feeling of unease was back, the air of sudden displacement. He didn't belong here, he wasn't part of it – never had been, even when his father had dragged him around the Airforce bases he had served at.  
"General McBain told us you were about to arrive. I’ll lead you to your tent. I hope you don’t mind sharing, Sir.“  
Reed smiled slightly as Burt just shook his head.  
"Major, can you give me an overview?“  
"Well, we have been sweeping the city for any Shrieker we can find, but as of late, we found only very little traces. We eliminated about three dozen yesterday, but new sightings have been reported. We didn’t have any losses, just several wounded. The city is sealed off, none can escape, and we moved the ships stationed at the base, as well as the ferry, to keep them from hiding out there. The National Guard has closed down the bridge and any other access point, and we have air patrols scanning for any flock they can find, immediately relaying their position to us.“  
Burt nodded. "Good. What are your men wearing, Major?“  
Hayek shot him a confused look as they stopped outside a tent. "Sir?“  
"You heard me. What are they wearing?“  
"Standard issue close combat, gear, sir.“  
Gummer nodded grimly. "You don’t hide your body heat.“  
"Sir?“  
Tyler sighed. "SOP for Shriekers, Major: hide your body heat. They have heat detection organs on the tops of their heads. They see your body heat, whether you hide behind a wall or inside a car. That’s how they find their targets.“  
Hayek frowned.  
"Does no one ever read my reports?“ Burt growled. "Apparently not! Major, first on a list of things we will need are space blankets. One for each soldier in this camp!“  
"Yes, Sir!“ Hayek responded immediately. "Anything else?“  
"I need an uplink to an infrared satellite. It’s how we can track the Shriekers outside the buildings. It’ll give us an overview of how many are scavenging the city.“  
Hayek nodded.  
"I’ll need to know about your operations so far, Major. What you have done to contain the situation and how many units are out there..“  
"You’ll get the reports.“  
"Good. Dismissed, soldier.“  
Hayek marched off and Tyler stepped into the tent that would be their home for as long as this lasted. It was surprisingly well-equipped, with two bunks, a table, chairs, and a locker for each man. Reed just threw his bag onto the cot and turned to Burt.  
"Okay, now what?“  
"Now we wait for the reports and then I want to do a first recon into the enemy’s territory.“  
"Sounds like a plan.“  
"And we need coffee,“ Burt added with a half-smile.  
Tyler chuckled. "A very good plan.“

 * * *  
   
Reed had decided to use the time he had to look around the base camp. It was larger than he had at first thought and well-organized, right down to the mess tent and the medical facilities. People checked their weapons, ate, slept, played games or repaired their gear as he sauntered through the 'streets’. Most watched him warily, the new guy, a civilian.  
"Mr. Reed.“  
He turned and discovered Major Hayek. "Hello, Major.“  
"Got lost?“  
Tyler smiled. "No. Just getting a feel for the place.“  
Hayek nodded. "Colonel Gummer asked me to find you. He wants to run a first recon mission into the city.“  
"Sure.“  
"Have you handled any kind of weapons before?“  
Tyler shot the older man a frown. "No, we actually throw stones and twigs at our Shriekers in Perfection. But only those who our resident yoga master hasn’t been able to hex to death.“  
Hayek chuckled. "Sarcasm noted, Mr. Reed. I apologize. When the general told us about Colonel Gummer, we didn’t know he would be bringing a civilian along.“  
Tyler sighed. "This civilian has handled guns before without shooting himself in the butt. Want a list?“ Okay, so he was still being sarcastic. "Or my credentials?"  
"No, but thanks for the offer.“  
Well, he had to like the guy. At least Hayek wasn’t a stiff whose sense of humor had been surgically removed when he had joined this outfit.  
"Just give me lots of ammo. These things don’t go down after one shot.“  
Hayek nodded. "That should be no problem, Mr. Reed.“  
Both men had arrived at the command tent and entered. Burt was looking at a laptop screen that showed a rough grid map. Tyler couldn’t be sure, but it wasn’t the whole of Coronado. There were a lot of orange blips on the map and he knew just what they were.  
"Shriekers?“ he asked nevertheless.  
Burt straightened, nodding. "It’s the largest above-ground concentration so far.“  
"You want to go in and take them out?“  
"That’s the plan.“  
"Fine by me.“  
Burt looked at Hayek. "Get the men ready. We’re leaving in ten.“  
Hayek nodded briskly. "Yes, Sir.“ Then he was out of the tent.  
They could hear them barking orders a few seconds later.

 * * *  
   
Five minutes later Tyler looked down at himself and stifled a sigh. Army greens met his eyes and he wondered when he had been 'recruited’. He was officially just an advisor since, unlike Burt, he had no rank, but he had been asked to wear the camouflage outfit nevertheless. Oh well… at least they didn’t make a fuss about handing him guns. Burt had trained him in every single weapon he owned and Tyler was a pretty good shot.  
"Standard Operating Procedure,“ he heard Burt say and walked over to him. "We go in, round up the Shriekers and kill them.“  
He was addressing four teams consisting of eight men each.  
"We secure the blocks and then hold them. As long as we allow the Shriekers to take over cleaned territory, we’ll never get a handle on them. These creatures are drawn out by body heat, so each of you is a target. That’s what we have these for.“ He held up the square, flat package that contained a space blanket. "Survival tip: hide your body heat! Each of you take a blanket and use it as a poncho. You don’t have to look sharp, just stay alive!“  
Hayek started to hand out the blankets and the men ripped open the package.  
"Captain Hansen, you and Unit Delta, your assigned area are three blocks, starting at the east end of First Street. Mr. Reed will be with you. I want to remind you that Mr. Reed here has more battle experience when it comes to Shriekers than all of you combined. Listen to the man!“  
Tyler faced the eight men and decided that he would rather be Burt’s back-up than the fifth wheel at this particular wagon. These men were a working unit and he was the newcomer. Wonderful.  
"Alpha, you’re with me. We’re starting from the West. Major Hayek, you and the Gamma Unit secure the cleaned areas.“  
Hayek nodded.  
"Let’s move!“  
   
 * * *  
   
"Holy shit,“ Tyler muttered under his breath.  
The sight was eerie; the smell was even worse.  
Palm trees weaving in the sunny breeze above empty children playgrounds with their lonely swings. Overturned fast food carts and souvenir stands had spilled their contents, making the smear that had been a human body almost invisible among the organic debris. The Ferry Landing Marketplace at the foot of First Street was empty of people, something that had never happened before. The stunning view of downtown San Diego was lost to the group of men slowly making their way across the open space, their guns ready.  
Over it all lay a stench of decay and death. Spoiled food and dead bodies, covered in flies and maggots. Tyler looked at the broken shop windows, the overturned furniture of the restaurants, the trampled displays. Here and there, more bodies, or what had been left of them, spoke of another kill, and he felt sick to the core.  
To his left, one of the Marines quickly looked away from the puddle of human remains, covered in feasting flies and maggots, that was too small to be a grown person, and Reed swallowed against the nausea. He had seen his share of Shrieker kills, but this had been a massacre. Despite what Sanderson had told them, not everyone had made it out. And maybe somewhere someone was still alive, surviving in the middle of these creatures…  
Suddenly there was the tell-tale snarling chatter of a Shrieker near-by and the men with him tensed. In the shadow of a building, a creature moved, but it darted away from them. Tyler’s eyes narrowed, his grip on the automatic tightened. Shriekers didn’t evade a confrontation. They just stormed up ahead, no matter the casualties.  
Another movement, again in the shadows, and the snarling chatter was now interspersed with clicks.  
"What’s going on here?“ Tyler murmured, tension rising even more. He turned to the soldier closest to him. "Have you been out here before?“  
"Yes, sir.“  
"Close contact?“  
"Yeah. Killed a few of those monsters.“  
"They always charged you, right?“  
A nod.  
Tyler felt the hairs on his arms rise. Something was wrong.  
The noise level was unnerving. There were Shriekers close-by but none charged—  
and from one second to the next, all hell broke lose.  
From out of the broken shop windows, a pair of Shriekers dashed at them, their jaws wide open, emitting heat blasts. Simultaneously, several burst up from behind an overgrown wall, the two groups boxing them in. Tyler opened fire automatically, not thinking.  
Kill. Destroy. Decimate.  
A scream from behind him let Reed whirl around and with a horrified gasp he saw one of the men get torn apart. A large flock of the creatures had used their distraction to attack from behind.  
More bullets rained down on the deadly animals and suddenly the few who hadn’t gone down turned and ran.  
Silence descended, only broken by the harsh breathing of the survivors.  
"Report!“ Hansen barked.  
"Two casualties, sir,“ a soldier answered, looking scared out of his mind.  
Tyler couldn’t fault him. No one had expected the flock to device such a tactic. These men had only mowed them down before where they had seen them. Hiding and using a box-in tactic was new.  
Tyler activated his com gear. "Burt, this is Tyler.“  
He’d be damned if he started calling his lover Colonel or Sir. Just the mere thought made his stomach turn into lead. It would mean distance – a distance his father had forced on him when his sons had called him by his rank and not 'Dad'.  
"Gummer here.“  
"We just ran into a flock. Burt, they trapped us. Let us walk right in and then attacked from three sides almost simultaneously. Hunting tactic.“  
He could almost imagine Burt’s face and the hear the soft curse. "Get back to base, Tyler. Gummer out.“  
Reed nodded at Hansen. "You heard the man.“  
And they retreated. Carefully, slowly, but no new attacks happened.  
Eerie indeed.

 * * *  
   
"They used different tactics from the Shriekers we last encountered in Juniper,“ Burt muttered, frowning deeply.  
"Those split up to hunt, too.“  
Tyler sat on one of the chairs in the large tent that was the nerve center of the base, watching his lover.  
"But never like this. They would single out their prey, yes, but they wouldn’t hunt like lions, use decoys for the prey to see, then attack from behind.“  
He nodded. "True. Then again, we know they can learn. The bastards are smart and the harder you come at them, the smarter they get. These have been going up against the Army for while now and probably found that full frontal charge is not the best idea.“  
Burt didn’t look happy. "Even the Juniper Shriekers fell back on the instinctual full charge in the end.“  
"Well, so these are more evolved.“  
"I’d hate to think they are.“  
"Now what?“  
"We adapt our hunting methods, too. Shriekers are attracted to heat sources. With the men wearing the ponchos, we have to give the Shriekers something else to home in on, something they instinctually seek..“  
"Fires,“ Tyler agreed. "Or flares.“  
Burt smiled darkly. "Exactly.“  
   
 * * *

Tyler sat in their tent, listening to the sounds coming in from outside. They were faint, but they were Shrieker calls nevertheless. The creatures didn't seem to need rest, or at least some of them were still awake, scavenging for food.  
It was eerie.  
It was grating on his nerves already.  
After two hours, Tyler got up and walked out of the tent into the dawn. The Shrieker calls had multiplied and he wondered if it meant more of them or just that those asleep had woken. And why were they calling anyway? Usually they only did it when they found food.  
"I'm sending out teams to eradicate the food supply."  
Tyler looked at his lover as he stepped out of the tent, wearing his pants and just a shirt.  
"We have to stop them from multiplying exponentially because of what they find out there."  
Reed nodded thoughtfully. "Sounds strange, hm? All that calling..."  
"Food. The men will burn whatever they find."  
Another nod. "So, we ready to start our own part?"  
Burt smiled. "Let's hand out the invitation."

* * *

They had chosen the Sea 'N Air Golf Course for their trap. Fires were burning at specific locations and a team of soldiers had laid a trail of flares along the road to lure the Shriekers out into the open. The flares stuck in the ground and had been activated in a specific pattern. They would burn down one after another, leading the animals to the waiting troops. Men and women lay in hiding positions, their bodies wrapped in the ponchos.  
Tyler was at Burt’s side, eyes glued to the binoculars. They lay under dense bushes and high trees, overlooking the ninth hole. There was a sandpit just left of the hole where a small flag was merrily dancing in the wind. Because of the sandpit and the lake to one side, Gummer had chosen this as their battlefield. It was enough inside the golf course that the Shriekers couldn’t just dash back into the city, and it gave them an advantage. All in all, there were three such traps all over the golf course.  
"Well, hello,“ he suddenly whispered. "They’re coming.“  
He handed over the binoculars and Burt watched the approach of the creatures. As he had seen it before, they were sniffing at the flares, calling out, snarling, rumbling and chattering. More flocked to the flares and followed the warmth. Suddenly one discovered the much larger heat source, the fire. It started to move toward it and the others followed.  
"Sir, the other points report Shrieker activity, too,“ Hayek reported.  
Burt nodded grimly. "Good. Get ready. The moment we have them in sight, shoot them.“  
"Yes, sir.“  
There was a loud scream off to the left and Tyler snapped his head around, mouth hanging open in horror at the sight. Just ten meters away from him a Shrieker burst out from under the trees where the soldiers had been hiding. Blood dripped from its jaws and it opened them wide, shrieking loudly. He didn’t think. He just fired.  
Yellowish fluids erupted on the Shrieker’s body and it fell.  
"They’re behind us!“ someone cried over the sound of gunfire erupting everywhere.  
Tyler jumped to his feet, looking for targets. He heard Burt shout orders, there was the deafening noise of automatic gunfire, and there were the screams. Terrible, nightmarish screams. He saw dead Shriekers, body parts, and blood-smeared guns, but he tried to ignore them all. Just kill the live ones, he thought. Get those bastards.  
"Reed, watch out!“  
Tyler whirled around, just fast enough to see a Shrieker bop toward him, jaws open. He brought up his gun and fired into the open maw, taking it out. Looking over to Hayek, he shot the Major a grin, saluting him briefly. Hayek nodded in return.  
That moment Tyler saw the movement  in the bushes and aimed his gun, the Major mirroring his move. It was his fatal mistake. The Shrieker in the bushes went down in a rain of bullets, but the one that had been sneaking up behind the man was too fast.  
"No!“ Reed screamed in horror as Hayek was ripped apart, and he nailed the thing with another round.  
Shocked, he stared at the remains of the man he had started to like, now just a smear in the grass.  
All around him, the mayhem continued.  
Swallowing hard, he hefted his gun and looked around. There were dead Shriekers everywhere, but there had been casualties on their side, too. In the distance he saw a few of those deadly monsters make a run for it, calling in their eerie way, then silence descended, broken only by the moans of the wounded.  
It was a miracle there were wounded, he thought darkly.  
He found Burt next to the fire, which some of the men were busy putting out. His lover looked a bit rumpled, but there were no open wounds. Tyler was simply glad Burt was alive.  
"Hayek is dead,“ he reported, voice level. Somehow he couldn’t feel much at the moment. The shock sat too deep, and his mind simply refused to process the horror he had been a witness to right now.  
Burt’s eyes tightened, the lines in his face hardened, and he nodded an affirmative.  
"What about the others?“ Reed asked tiredly.  
"None of the other baits were taken. The moment this started, the other Shriekers ran, going into hiding,“ Gummer said neutrally, but behind the cool façade, a volcano was ready to erupt.

   
No more Shriekers showed for the rest of the day. There were a few sightings of the creatures watching them, but they neither attacked, nor could the soldiers shoot them.  
They could only hear the calls all over the city.

 * * *  
   
"How could they have known?“ Tyler murmured, sitting in their shared tent, staring at the ground.  
He felt numb with the horror he had witnessed, the violent death of Hayek. He had seen death by Shriekers before, but never had it been in front of his eyes. Never had someone he knew been killed this way. All in all, five men had died. Five senseless deaths.  
"We mowed down one group, but the other two didn’t take the bait. Why? Because they were warned? It’s almost as if they were telling each other what was going on out there…“  
Burt looked at him, eyes dark and clouded. "You think they communicate?“  
"After what happened today? Burt, they knew it was bait! Part of them ambushed us while the others drew our attention to them.“ Tyler shook his head. "These things are smart!“  
"Too smart,“ Gummer growled.  
"And now they talk? I thought they were deaf…“ Reed flopped down on the cot, gazing thoughtfully at the tent ceiling.  
"You don’t need ears to hear. El Blanco senses vibrations,“ Burt said thoughtfully. "Shriekers communicate by heat blasts.“  
The younger man frowned more. "Across the whole city?“  
The older man frowned. "True. So far, I’ve only seen them do it at close quarters.“  
"Now they can call out throughout Coronado. Real big piece of ground to cover.“  
Burt nodded thoughtfully.  
"Well, if they really talk, we might be able to use their calls to our advantage.“  
Gummer walked over to him, looking down. "How?“  
"You remember that woman scientist I told you about? Donna Debevic? She’s an animal communications expert.“ Tyler sat up, suddenly enthusiastic. "She works at the San Diego Animal Research Lab. She might be able to help us!“  
Burt frowned. "I don’t like bringing in civilians into this operation.“  
Tyler gave his lover a wry look. "Well, hello? I am a civilian, Colonel Gummer. You brought me in.“  
The older man shot him a serious look. "You’re no civilian, Tyler. Like I said the very first day: you got more experience in these matters than any of those soldiers outside.“  
"And Dr. Debevic has more experience in animal talk than any of us, Burt.“  
Another frown. Then, "Call her. See if she can help you.“  
Tyler jumped up from the bed. "You got it.“  
At least it gave him something to do, take his mind off things. He didn’t want to think of the horror again that was sure to give him nightmares; he didn’t want to have the time to ponder his own situation, their situation, and the hopelessness that wanted to settle in. He wanted to ignore the carnage for now, think of something to wipe those monsters out.

 * * *

Tyler had to smile as Dr. Donna Debevic stepped out of the jeep. She hadn’t changed a bit. Still the same glasses, the same hat, the same outfit. Her suntanned face showed nothing but distaste at the situation, even though she knew very little about it, but Tyler knew she liked everything connected to the government as much as Burt. A female Burt Gummer, someone had once called her, but where Burt was good with weapons, she had a sharp tongue.  
"Hello, doc,“ he greeted the woman.  
"Hey there, pretty boy. Nice little set-up you got here,“ she commented, looking around.  
The Marine who had driven her here unpacked the boxes from the jeep and she watched him critically for a second, then turned back to Tyler, sizing him up.  
"Now there's a new look for you. Joined the Army?"  
"No. Advisory function."  
"I see. That nice general back at the base nearly blew a blood vessel when I arrived.“  
"Wait till Burt sees you. He’ll do the same,“ Tyler chuckled.  
"Well, I’ll tell him the same I told McBain: you need my expertise, I need to hear these things live. It’s no good working off something like a bad recording.“  
"Hey, I’m with you. We need help here and I think you’re it.“  
Debevic gave him a smile. "Well, how nice of you to see it that way. Now, where do we start?“  
"You tell me."  
"Then I need to know just what I'm facing. And I mean a lot more than what you told me on the phone. 'We got something we need you to figure out how it talks' doesn't cut it."  
Tyler grinned, then grew serious once more. "You ever heard of Shriekers?"  
"Who hasn't, but I never studied them in-depth. They're linked to Graboids, right?"  
Another nod. They were walking down the main road in the camp toward the mess tent.  
"I'm no scientist, doc, but I know some about them," Reed explained as he got them both coffee and Debevic sat down. "A Shrieker is vaguely similar to a Graboid, but it's not the same. It's bipedal. It still got the mouth parts of the original Graboid, but each Shrieker only has one tongue, rather than three. They use it to sweep areas, searching for food. If it touches anything that it considers edible, it'll eat it."  
"Omnivore?"  
"Yeah, more or less. Like the Graboids they come from."  
She nodded. "Go on."  
"They don't have eyes, but they sense infrared. They got some kind of flaps of skin that will lift like frills on the top of their heads. It's like a heat seeker. Thing is, they can't tell apart living from non-living things, so they'll also attack whatever burns hot, like a fire, a hot engine, even radio equipment."  
Debevic looked intrigued.  
Tyler leaned back a little and rubbed his eyes. "Shriekers communicate by heat, too. Heat blasts. They open their mouths and out comes hot air."  
She chuckled.  
"Now these Shriekers we have here, they were tampered with."  
"Tampered?"  
"Government experiment."  
She grimaced. "I see. Costly screw-up?"  
"Very costly. We're facing something that's not only more intelligent than your run-of-the-mill Shrieker, it can also communicate somehow. That's where you come in."  
"Looks like it. Now tell me, where do you and Gummer fit in?"  
"Long story…"

 * * *  
   
"You what? I thought I had made myself clear!“ Burt snapped. "No civilians!“  
"Burt, listen to yourself!“ Tyler replied angrily. "You sound like the people you distrust! Until a few days ago, you were nothing but a civilian. They slapped your old rank on you and brought you in because you’re the expert. Dr. Debevic is the expert on animal communication! Make her a captain or whatever, but we need her ears!“  
"We could have sent her the recordings online!“  
"No, we could not! She said we either bring her in and let her study the Shriekers in the wild or we can forget about it. Burt, this is getting out of hand. These things are smarter than any other Shrieker we ever encountered. We need her.“  
Burt let out a puff of air, eyes still flaring with temper. "Okay!" he finally growled. "But she’s your responsibility.“  
"Fine!“  
Tyler turned and stalked away.  
His insides clenched with emotional upheaval at the fight, a senseless, stupid fight – like all he had had with another Colonel so many years ago. With someone who was supposed to love him as a son, not treat him like a recruit. Now Burt had snapped at him, not as his lover but as an Army officer.  
It hurt. It had opened old wounds. And they were starting to leak blood.  
Debevic watched him as he approached, a frown on her face. "Lemme guess, it didn’t go well.“  
He snorted. "He made you my business.“  
The woman chuckled. "You find I’m easy to work with as long as you do what I tell you.“  
Tyler grimaced, but there was half a smile in his eyes. "So, where do we start, doc?“  
"I need to record the animals’ noises, I need to study their behavior, then I can tell you more about their communication.“  
"Well, I can’t let you out and about in a restricted area, doc. But,“ he forestalled her protests, "I can do the next best thing…“

 * * *  
   
Burt watched his lover and Dr. Debevic as they poured over the data collected by the teams sweeping the city. Each and every Marine going in had been outfitted with a camera and a microphone that transmitted every hiccup from the Shriekers. For half a day now, the woman had been at the camp, making her recordings, talking to Tyler, who was redirecting the teams wherever she sent them.  
He didn’t like having that woman here, but he had liked fighting with Tyler over his decisions even less. His lover had done what he thought was best, and he had been right about needing experts on this. These Shriekers weren’t normal. Something about them was so totally wrong.  
They worked the whole night and Burt slept only for a few hours, while his lover didn’t even spend an hour in his bed. Or the tent. He only saw him the next morning when he and Debevic presented results.  
"I’ve separated the calls into separate categories and I think this is the one calling out to other members of the flock,“ the woman explained to Burt, who watched her with suspicious eyes. "As I told Tyler once, every animal in the species has its own voice. Others can tell who it is."  
"You see,“ Tyler added, "we lure them out by using their own calls, then kill them.“  
"We thought the same about the fires. Didn’t work.“  
"Burt, work with me, man! We’re using their language here.“  
"Shriekers have no language.“  
"I beg to differ,“ Debevic interrupted. "They communicate. You said yourself that the first Shriekers you ever encountered used heat blasts. Well, these have evolved. There is a pattern in their calls, as clearly as there is a pattern in the songs of whales and dolphins.“  
"Shriekers are hardly dolphins.“  
"Still they talk,“ she insisted. "We can use it like we used it on the cicada infestation you guys had in Perfection.“  
Tyler shot his lover a pleading look to give it a chance and Burt finally nodded.  
"Okay, let’s try it,“ he gave in, looking more like the Burt Gummer Tyler knew and loved than the stranger he had turned into lately.  
"Great! C’mon, doc, let’s round up some of these guys and give them something to do.“ Tyler flashed Burt a smile and saw the lips twitch with the old fire.

 * * *  
   
Debevic and some of the soldiers had rigged together a loudspeaker system that would play the recorded calls over and over. They had set it up inside a building, which had been covered with explosives. Tyler wondered who the owner of the auto repair shop at the edge of the town was—he would be in for a surprise when he returned. Two full teams of Marines were hiding in the surrounding buildings and three had been ordered to safeguard Dr. Debevic. She was checking her equipment.  
"Okay, I’m ready,“ she announced and Tyler nodded.  
"Hit it, Doc.“  
The eerie calling started from inside the garage and Tyler saw the men tense in expectation.

It took ten minutes for the first Shrieker to show up and Tyler had a strange feeling by the time the beak appeared. Shriekers normally didn’t hesitate. They flocked toward the calls like moths flew to the flame, because the call meant food. And it was their prime objective—feed and multiply, to morph into a new life form and carry the Graboid eggs to a new hatching place. A simple life, but a very effective one.  
At his side, Hansen peered down the sightings of his rifle, his face a mask of concentration.  
"What’s it waiting for?“ the captain muttered.  
"Beats me.“ Tyler was wondering the same and his unease grew. "There’s only that one...“  
And it was listening. Slowly approaching the garage, it was listening, the heat seeking organs flaring wide open, but the men were all behind cover or underneath the space blankets.  
Then a second one appeared. It stopped next to the first, croaking, squealing, chattering, and the two seemed to talk among each other. They came forward three more steps, then stopped.  
Tyler looked at Debevic, who was watching them through her binoculars. He didn’t like the frown on her face.  
"Doc?“  
"I don’t know,“ she said slowly. "It’s almost as if they aren’t sure...“  
"You got the right tape?“  
If looks could kill... Tyler shot her a grin and she turned back to watching the Shriekers with a huff.  
And they still didn’t make any moves; neither were there any more.  
Suddenly the first shrieked loudly, its maw opening wide, then it turned and darted off. The second stayed a moment longer, then with a rattle, it turned, too and disappeared.  
"Shit!“ Hansen cursed. "What the fuck is going on here?“  
Debevic shook her head, surprise written all over her face. "I can’t believe it. They knew!“  
"Knew what?“ Tyler asked.  
"That it wasn’t one of theirs.“  
He shook his head. "No way, doc! They’re animals! It was just a call!“  
Her serious eyes met his. "My words stand, Tyler: they knew.“  
"But...“  
"It appears that these Shriekers don’t follow their nether instincts and react to a flock member’s call without thinking. You saw how they called out to it? And there was no answer.“  
"They checked the situation?“ Hansen growled.  
"Exactly.“  
"Smart critters,“ the captain muttered with grudging respect.  
"Yes, very.“  
Tyler didn’t like it. Not one bit.  
   
 * * *

It was the first time Dr. Cary Lamberts stepped into the base camp and it was clear the man wasn’t happy about being here. Well, Tyler didn’t give a shit and neither did any of the soldiers accompanying him. Lamberts nervously licked his lips as he was escorted into the command tent.  
"Ah, Dr. Lamberts,“ Burt said, smiling toothily.  
Tyler knew that smile. He usually showed it when any kind of government agent was really going on his nerves – like Twitchell.  
"Colonel Gummer. Uhm, General McBain said you had questions.“  
"Yes, you could say that. You might want to take a seat. Oh and by the way, may I introduce Dr. Donna Debevic? She’s our resident animal communications expert.“  
Lamberts nodded at her, smiling briefly. "Animal communication?“ he asked.  
"Yes. Apparently our Shriekers here talk. Quite a lot and quite loudly.“ Burt glared at the man and Lamberts nervously shifted on his seat. "Shriekers have no ears, Dr. Lamberts. I know it. Up close and personal. They have heat detection organs, but – no – ears!“  
"Ah, well…“  
Burt’s eyes held a kind of wild madness and Lamberts shuffled back a little. Tyler just stepped closer to his lover, ready to intervene as he usually did.  
"We wanted to train the Shriekers to listen to only one voice, one handler. It would have been a way to tame them, you see.“  
"Tame them,“ Burt echoed, not even making it a question. "Wonderful! You cannot train Shriekers!“  
"We had a lot of success at first, Colonel,“ Lamberts contradicted. "They reacted to one person, accepted him as their handler. We implanted the imperative into them that their trainer was their lead animal. They would listen to him.“  
"You gave them ears?“ Tyler asked.  
Debevic shook her head. "No amount of genetic engineering can give an animal that communicates short distances by heat blasts ears.“  
"You’re right, doctor, but we took our cues from the Graboids they came from,“ Lamberts explained, almost sounding excited. "We cross-bred.“  
Debevic blinked. "Come again?“  
"It was an amazing result. We had Shriekers that detected sound vibrations; they could hear.“  
"You stupid…“  
Debevic interrupted Gummer’s beginning cursing. "Even so… how can one Shrieker tell apart a recording from the real thing? No animal can do that, not even dolphins!“  
"Ah well, we had a little mishap.“  
Burt ripped off his cap and ran his hand through the thinning hair. Then he slapped it back on again. "Mishap!“  
"I can’t explain it, but the Shriekers in the lab… well, they only reacted to the real thing, like they could really tell it apart.“  
"Mis-hap!“ Burt snarled again and this time Tyler did step in between the two men.  
"Wow, Burt, cool it.“  
Burt hissed and stepped back, tugging at his cap again, a clear sign of his agitation.  
"Now what?“ Tyler wanted to know.  
Debevic frowned, a clear expression of misgiving in her eyes as she looked at the scientist. "Well, rule out recordings guys. It sounds like they communicate on varying levels of the ultrasonic frequencies, different amplitudes, and they can tell from the recording that it's not one of theirs.“  
Gummer growled softly.  
"Sir?“  
Tyler looked up and discovered one of the Marines. He was coming to attention and faced Burt.  
"Yes, Private?“  
"One of the teams reported in just a minute ago. They found a Shrieker skin.“  
Burt straightened so abruptly, Tyler was afraid he’d hear vertebrae snap back into place. "What?“  
"A Shrieker skin. Like it had just shed it.“  
"They evolved,“ Gummer whispered, horrified. "The first one has evolved! We now got an Assblaster on our hands. Private, I want the location of the husk and a team ready to leave ASAP! We need to hunt that creature down before it gets airborne!“  
The soldier saluted and hurried off.  
"Damn!“ Tyler muttered.  
"We got to bring it down,“ Burt said, voice fierce and determined as he checked his vest and then pulled it on.  
"Want me to come along?“  
"No. You stay here.“  
"I don’t like splitting up,“ Tyler argued.  
"You stay!“ Gummer told him firmly. "I’m going after the Assblaster, you’re in charge of the Shriekers. You and Debevic find something else to get them to come to us.“  
Reed glared angrily at him, then whirled around and stalked out of the tent.

Burt watched the tent flap close and briefly closed his eyes.  
"Well, that’s my call, too,“ Debevic announced and rose. She had watched the exchange silently. Grabbing Lamberts, she pushed him out. "You too.“  
Gummer didn’t say anything; he just left to join his team.

 * * *

Tyler didn't know why it hurt him so, why this hit him deeper than anything else Burt could have thrown at him.  
No, not Burt, actually. Colonel Gummer, Army officer.  
That hurt. Burt had changed and with every passing day, Tyler felt his lover was moving further and further away from him. It was a chasm opening up between them and whatever he did, it would never be enough.  
Like his father, a small voice piped up.  
He hunched over, staring at the ground between his feet. Tyler was alone in their tent since Burt had already started his search-and-destroy mission.  
Like my father, he thought darkly. A man he hadn't seen in years, actually. Since his decision to make it into NASCAR. That had been the last shouting match. While he still received mail from his mother and sometimes his Airforce officer brother, the other parent was silent. Tyler Reed, disappointment to the Reed name, a black sheep in a model military family. His father had made it clear that his first-born's choice of careers was nothing if not disappointing and clearly the road to failure.  
Well, now add Burt Gummer to that, he mused wryly. He had failed on two occasions, he had lost the connection to Burt he had had from day one of meeting the man. He had lost his lover – to the Army. And to the very institution Burt had always distrusted, the government. Now he had turned into just another one of them, he had turned into the same person his father had become. Cold, distant… professional in every single way, even the most important: his personal relationship with one Tyler Reed.  
Tyler ran a tired hand through his hair. He was a misfit again, like back home when he didn't fulfill his father's expectations, when he didn't follow him in his footsteps.  
He wasn't of much use and Burt had told him so – through his rejection.

* * *  
   
Burt moved through the silent streets, his gun ready, the team fanning out behind him. Everything was quiet. The shell of the Shrieker lay on the ground like a discarded toy, a dead husk. But it wasn’t really dead; it had given birth to a new danger, the Assblaster. If they didn’t find the thing, it could launch itself off the island and they would have an even bigger problem.  
McBain had sent in the surveillance helicopters, but Assblasters were smart. This one might wait for a chance and then sneak out undetected. Burt knew his prey was intelligent; he had never made the mistake to see dumb animals in them. He had faced too many of these things before and due to their ability to soar, to glide, the Assblasters were dangerous opponents. They could attack from the air.  
"Jay six, this is Jay four.“  
"Gummer here,“ he acknowledged.  
"I got movement, sir. Fifth and Robinson.“  
Burt frowned. "The Assblaster?“  
"I’m not sure. I’m going to investigate.“  
Burt felt a little warning niggle. "Jay four, stay where you are. I’m coming to your position.“  
"Understood.“  
Burt gestured at two of his men to follow him, the rest of the team would continue their search.  
The position of Jay Four wasn’t more than a block down, but when he got there, it was already too late. Burt clenched his teeth and swallowed a curse while the two men at his side took the liberty to venting their anger.  
Shriekers.  
They had taken out three men.  
The mike crackled and a shriek could be heard not far away.  
"They ambushed us!“ the hysterical voice of Jay Two could be heard, then there was nothing but static.  
"Damn!“ Gummer yelled and turned, running back to where he had left four good men.  
He didn’t get far.  
They had expected them.  
   
 * * *  
   
Debevic was busy with her work, fascinated by the complicated form of communication between the Shriekers. Tyler suspected she would write another book and right now he was considering to write his autobiography, too. It would be short but interesting, and it would give him something to do as he stayed here, twiddling his thumbs.  
Suddenly he became aware of the commotion around the communications tent, and he jogged over to it.  
"What’s up?“ he asked.  
Hansen shot him a dark look. "Colonel Gummer’s team was ambushed by Shriekers.“  
"What?“ Tyler felt panic surge through him. "We gotta get out there and help them!“  
"The Colonel ordered us not to. He says it’s been taken care of.“  
The panic was replaced by anger, and Reed strode into the tent where one of the soldiers manning the com system was apparently talking to his lover. Tyler grabbed a headset and nodded at the soldier to put him through.  
"Burt, it’s Tyler. What the fuck is going on out there? You need back-up!“  
"Tyler, everything's clear ... holy SHIT!“  
The next thing Tyler heard had him freeze in shock: the well-known sound of an attacking Shrieker - and a scream. Several shots, then - nothing.  
"Burt!!“

 * * *  
   
Gummer clenched his teeth against the hot white pain that had exploded in his right arm the moment the Shrieker had attacked him from behind. It had gotten his arm, almost ripped it off before he had been able to shoot it. Now blood was dripping onto the ground from a deep wound and his shoulder felt like it had been wrenched out of its socket. It probably was. The son of a bitch had dislocated it.  
He closed his eyes, curling in on himself, his good hand wrapped protectively around the bad shoulder.  
Damn. Damn, damn, DAMN!  
And he was out of ammo.  
"Burt, come in. Damnit, Gummer, where the hell are you?!“ the voice of his lover was close to panicky, and Burt groped for the come unit that he had almost lost. It lay only a few feet away, wrenched from his head by the struggle with the Shrieker, but it was like the Grand Canyon separated him from his only means of communication.  
Crying out softly in pain, he tried to crawl over to the device.  
That was when he heard it. A soft, hooting sound – behind him.  
It was the mixture of a cooing and purring, intermixed with a stranger chatter—a well-known horrifying sound, that pierced the fog of pain that lay over his mind. It easily replaced the agony with a bolt of panic and rush of adrenaline. Burt suppressed a moan and slowly rolled around to face his death.  
Tearing eyes met his nightmare – unarmed, wounded, at its mercy.  
The Shrieker perched on a broken wall, its three-toed feet clenching around the stone for purchase. It chittered again, the heat-seeking organs on top of its head flaring up, indicating that it indeed had him in its focus. It was only a matter of seconds before it would open its triple jawed mouth and make the shrieking sound that were its kind’s ‘trademark’. It would also be the last thing Burt would ever hear – apart of his own scream when the beast ripped him apart.  
What a way to go.  
The Shrieker moved down from the wall. Slowly. Never letting him out of its ‘sight’, circling him. Despite his pain Burt frowned at the unusual behavior. The creature acted like a predator that was unsure of its prey, as if trying to make up its mind whether an attack on him would be worth the risk.  
His mike crackled.  
“Burt? Burt, are you all right? Goddamit, Gummer, answer me!”  
Burt could hear the fear in Tyler’s voice and realized he must have witnessed the first attack. Swearing inwardly he never let the Shrieker out of his sight, a part of his mind wondering when it would make up its mind. The animal was still moving slowly, narrowing the circle, cooing again.  
It was unnerving.  
It wasn’t normal.  
No Shrieker behaved like that. Under ordinary circumstances Burt Gummer would have been a bloody smear on the ground by now – and then it raised its head. Moving it as if ‘looking’ from one side of the alley to the other, the thermal sensor on full alert.  
Jeezus, it was scanning the area.  
And with a small rattling sound it was –gone.  
Gone?  
Just like that??  
The pain was still racing through him, the adrenaline no longer enough to sustain him, but Burt didn’t really register much aside from the shock of what he had just witnessed. That thing had assessed the situation, had made a conscious choice not to attack him, and it had let him live. It hadn’t hunted for food… it had hunted opponents that might be a danger.  
“Gummer, hang on. I’m gonna get you!”  
Tyler. Oh, god, no … Burt realized that the whole incident couldn’t have lasted more than a few seconds and that his lover was determined to get to him, no matter what. Knowing Tyler …  
Burt gasped when the small movement of crawling to his microphone sent another spear of white hot agony through his arm, and grabbed the mike.  
“Tyler, don’t, I repeat – don’t come here. That’s an order!”  
And then the mike hit the dirt again when it fell from his lax hand.

 * * *  
   
Tyler would never forget the image. It was burned into his mind forever and he knew he would have nightmares of it. More nightmares anyway; he would be dreaming of Shriekers for a while, too.  
When he had had to listen to the Shrieker’s attack, his lover’s scream, and then there had been no answer to his calls, he had almost torn out of the camp. This was his partner out there and from the countless times they had hunted Shriekers, Assblasters or the occasional Graboid in another State, Tyler was used to being his back-up. Or to have Burt as his. Now Gummer had gone after the Assblaster on his own…  
Look what happens, he thought darkly.  
It hadn’t taken long to make Burt’s position since he hadn’t moved from his original grid search pattern – and they had followed the trail of bodies the Shriekers had left of his team.  
Tyler knew he was moving, but he couldn’t say he was in control of his body. His eyes were riveted to the blood-soaked uniform, the deep tear in the right sleeve, the ashen, blood-speckled features of his lover, and he only peripherally noticed the dead Shrieker close by.  
"Burt?“ he whispered, voice hoarse.  
Someone pushed past him, bearing the insignia of a field medic, and he almost had to look away as the removal of the torn uniform sleeve revealed a deep, jagged wound that was still bleeding.  
"He dislocated his shoulder,“ the medic – Marks, Tyler reminded himself – called. "And that thing apparently got him, too. "We need to put the shoulder back in before the swelling keeps us from doing it manually.“  
Tyler knelt down at Burt’s side, swallowing repeatedly. "You want to push it back in?“ he asked.  
Marks nodded grimly. "It’s that or reduce it surgically.“  
"Oh.“  
"Can you help?“  
Tyler nodded and followed the instructions of the field medic. The sound of bone grinding against bone, the hollow sound of the joint popping back in, made him even more sick. Burt started in his strong hold as Marks manipulated the shoulder with everything he got. Tyler had never seen it done before and the sight of Marks pushing his knee into Burt's shoulder, then rotating the dislocated arm and pushing it back in – he would never forget that.  
A soft moan could be heard.  
"Burt?“ he whispered.  
Eyelids fluttered.  
Marks wrapped a pressure bandage around the bleeding injury, then bound the limb to Burt’s chest to keep it immobile.  
"Burt?“ Tyler coaxed again gently.

 * * *  
   
He came around to someone touching him, a voice calling his name, and when his eyes finally opened, the blurry images of Tyler Reed coalesced into form.  
"Burt? Burt, can you hear me?“  
Fear swung in his lover’s voice. Burt twisted his head, the memory of the Shrieker burned into his mind, but there was no sign of it.  
"The Shrieker!“ he gasped.  
"It’s dead.“  
"No, the other one.“  
Tyler frowned. "There’s only one and that’s dead.“  
Someone else appeared in his line of vision. "Area secure,“ Captain Hansen reported. "Sir, how do you feel?“  
Burt clenched his teeth and tried to sit up, barely refraining from screaming out loud. "That son of a bitch got me.“  
Tyler’s hands hovered over his injured side, afraid to touch but needing to help nevertheless.  
"We’ve got to get you back to base.“  
Burt nearly lost consciousness – and his food – when Marks and Tyler pulled him to his feet. There were three more Marines, all searching for possible dangers, but nothing showed.  
"I told you to stay put,“ Gummer hissed through clenched teeth. "I gave you an explicit order!“  
Angry brown eyes turned to stare at Tyler, who met the temper easily.  
"Sorry,“ was all he said.  
"You disobeyed a direct order!“  
"Burt, you might be a Colonel, but I’m not in the Army. I’m no Marine or Special Forces op. I’m just me and I decided to get you out of here. These guys just tagged along.“  
Burt transferred his anger onto Hansen, who met his gaze stoically.  
"We couldn’t let a civilian run around unprotected, sir,“ the man replied calmly.  
Gummer snorted and regretted it immediately. His shoulder was shooting fire. Tyler. Civilian. Hah! The man had been with teams into the war zone several times, proving his worth; the men respected his expertise, though they were still a bit wary about his disregard for military protocol but they were adapting. Tyler didn’t need protection from a bunch of Marines; they had followed him out of respect.  
"Let’s go,“ Reed decided, carefully aiding his lover in his staggering steps. "We got a jeep close by.“  
For the first time Gummer noted that his dislocated shoulder had been strapped to his chest. Strange. He hadn’t really felt it. They must have done it while he was out.  
Tyler helped him into the transport and the others climbed in, taking alert and protective stances, weapons ready. But nothing showed. Burt closed his eyes, feeling exhaustion and pain, blood loss and the pulsing throb of his injured shoulder. He was leaning against Tyler, he knew, but he couldn’t care less at the moment who thought what about them, or found out. Right now, he didn’t give a shit.

 * * *  
   
Burt sat on the examination table in the medical tent, staring at the fidgeting man in front of him. One of the doctors on site was currently treating his shoulder wound, a nasty and deep cut that needed stitching, and he knew that the amount of painkillers they had injected would probably knock him out sooner or later. But for now, while he was still conscious, he used the pain and the renewed burst of anger to tear into the scientist who had dared to cross his path. Cary Lamberts was one unlucky dog right now.  
"What the fuck is that out there?“ he demanded. "No Shrieker lets a meal go by! I should be a bloody smear on the ground, but it let me go! It made a choice to ignore readily served food and leave! I wonder why,“ he snarled.  
The man fidgeted more. "Well…“  
"Spit it out now before I turn you into Shrieker food!“ Burt snapped.  
"Colonel…“  
Tyler stepped between the two opponents, his eyes more expressive than Burt had ever seen them. He read fear and shared pain in there, the horror his lover had suffered by having to sit back and just listen to what was happening to Gummer out there, but there was also a silent determination to keep Burt from beheading the man who might just be able to solve this puzzle.  
His catalyst, Gummer mused with a secret smile.  
"What are they?“ Tyler asked calmly, giving the doctor a chance to push Burt back against the upraised head part of the table to continue treating the shoulder.  
"Well, you see… We, that is the lab, tried to decipher the genetic code of the Shriekers, see what triggers their voracious behavior, this single minded need to feed and reproduce at a rate that surpasses every other animal on this planet. We took them apart and studied their DNA.“  
Burt growled something under his breath and Lamberts bit his lower lip.  
"We thought we had found a way to shut down the drive to simply feed and multiply, use the Shriekers for our purposes without endangering the population.“  
"Hah!“ Gummer hissed.  
Tyler shot him a sharp look and the older man fell back again, glaring.  
"You tried before,“ Reed simply said. "We had to deal with the fall-out. Is this one of your little radio-controlled Shriekers gone haywire programs?“  
The scientist shook his head, looking rather pale. "No. We heard of that and it wasn’t the solution.“  
"I bet,“ Burt commented.  
"We tried it at a genetic level. We created a DNA matrix that allowed us to control their food intake, that would effectively let them stop feeding and use their abilities to our commands.“  
"Shriekers are hardly man’s best friend!“ Burt said forcefully. "They are nothing but predators and you can’t tame them!“  
"It worked!“ Lamberts defended himself.  
"Until now.“  
"Uhm, yes. Somehow, they overcame the programming, the brake we had installed on their hunger aggression.“  
"But they don’t eat everything in their way,“ Tyler remarked. "They choose.“  
"Well, yes, we had intended them as, uhm, weapons of war, you know.“  
Burt sat up, startling the medic who was wrapping his shoulder. "You what?“  
"We wanted them as search and destroy units, biological weapons. You know, like the dolphins?“ Lamberts gave them a hopeful look and only met icy cold stares. "They were to take out the opposition. I’m as surprised as you are that they haven’t killed you, Colonel Gummer.“  
"They learn,“ Burt whispered, horrified. "They learned to evade our troops, to attack, to use new strategies! They learned to communicate our position to each other, and now you’re telling me they also learned to take out a man and not simply eat him!“  
Tyler’s face was a mirror of Burt’s, with some more horror mixed into it. He no longer stood between Lamberts and Burt, his whole body language speaking of a barely restrained temper.  
"When will you people learn!“ Burt exploded. "You cannot use Shriekers, you can only kill them!“  
"We didn’t take their ability to alter a DNA programming into account,“ Lamberts cried desperately. "They shouldn’t even have been able to reproduce in the first place!“  
Tyler and Burt just gaped. "Come again?“ Reed managed.  
"When we altered their make-up, we also neutered them, so to speak. None of the first off spring was able to multiply.“  
"Well, news flash, doc! These can!“  
Lamberts wrung his hands. "I can’t explain it, Colonel Gummer. I never believed it could happen. I thought…“  
"You didn’t think, that’s what happened! You thought it was all a safe lab model, right? These things are deadly, Dr. Lamberts,“ Gummer tore into the scientist, pushing off the table and stalking over to the smaller man, unheeding of his injuries. "Since I came here information about your bumblings came in after I had lost good men to something we didn’t expect! You expect me to solve your problem, but you just create more!“  
Dark eyes flared with fury and he pushed the hapless scientist against the tent’s pole.  
"Anything else you conveniently forgot to mention?“ he whispered, voice cold and dangerous.  
Tyler made no move to intervene.  
"Uhm… we still have the original Shrieker all the others came from,“ Lamberts choked.  
Burt stood like thunderstruck.

 * * *  
   
Tyler had accompanied his lover over to the tent they both shared. Gummer was rather unsteady on his feet and his face looked ashen. The doctor had told Tyler to get Burt to sleep and rest; he really needed it. The painkillers would send him into oblivion soon and no fight against it would stop the effect.  
Lamberts had rambled on about a Shrieker 'queen’, painting an even more horrifying picture than this already was. Apparently, the lab had manipulated their only live Shrieker and it had given birth to new versions of itself, which now contained the 'program’ that had backfired on them. Shriekers were hermaphroditic, but the lab still called their specimen the 'queen’. It was the original creature that had spawned the one that had escaped and multiplied here in San Diego. They kept it at a minimum food level, always hungry, because they needed to control its reproduction rate.  
"Madmen,“ Burt murmured as Tyler pushed him onto the cot. "All of them. Totally and utterly nuts.“  
His injured shoulder had been bound and he had to keep it in a sling at his side. Tyler closed the tent flaps and then proceeded to strip Gummer of his boots. He didn’t like his lover’s color any more than before. Burt was close to a complete collapse.  
Cupping the haggard face, he met the too dull eyes.  
"Burt, you have to sleep,“ he said gently.  
"This is madness,“ Burt insisted.  
"I agree. I really do.“  
He did so fervently, actually. This was a nightmare and he wished it would end. He wanted to go home, to Perfection, their quaint little valley with its single Graboid.  
Gummer sank onto the cot and winced briefly. Tyler stayed at his side, caressing the pale face. He bent down and placed a gentle kiss on the ashen lips.  
"Get some rest, okay? Let me handle it.“  
Burt closed his eyes and dropped off not much later. Tyler stayed with him for a long time, just watching him sleep, his mind going over the terrifying news.

 * * *

It was early morning. The sun was already out, shining down on the soldiers up and about. Among them was Tyler Reed, who hadn’t slept a lot last night. Burt had gotten some rest, but it had been interrupted by the recurring pain. He had never really woken, but the soft moans and hisses had been telltale enough.  
Reed had gotten himself some coffee and chosen a table at the farthest end of the tent. No one disturbed him, though some of the men were looking his way. News of Burt’s almost fatal encounter with the Shrieker had made it through the ranks. He didn’t care. He had nearly lost the man he loved because no one really told them what the fuck was going on here!  
"This seat taken?“  
At the sound of the voice, Tyler looked up. Dr. Debevic stood in front of him, carrying her laptop and a mug. Tyler shrugged.  
She sat down.  
"I heard about Gummer. He okay?“  
"He’ll live,“ Tyler murmured. "No thanks to those government nerds!“  
She pursed her lips. "What happened?“  
"He got ambushed by a Shrieker and it nearly took his arm off. Managed to dislocate one shoulder.“  
"Painful,“ she commented.  
Tyler swirled the black liquid around in his cup. "And then we find out just another little tidbit about those things. Why is it that every time we think we have a handle on things, these idiots release another bit of information that might have saved someone’s life!? All because of their fucked-up top secret mentality!“  
Debevic regarded him calmly. "What new information?“  
Like them, she was a victim of the restricted flow of information. She had worked with the data available and hadn’t been told about many things that might have made her work easier.  
"They have the original Shrieker still in the lab,“ Tyler growled. "Like some queen bee. All those things out there came from it, and they should have been unable to multiply.“  
Debevic frowned. "Like drones?“  
Tyler sighed. "Yeah. One bee, many drones. They wanted to use them as war material. Can’t have your kamikaze weapon bite off an enemy’s head and then spawn a few new weapons.“ Sarcasm dripped heavily from his voice.  
"Well, that gives the whole calling a new meaning,“ the woman muttered, her frown deepening.  
"What calling?“  
"I’ve been analyzing the noises the men recorded and I wondered why these Shrieker never behaved along the lines of any of the animals I ever studied. They can tell apart a recorded call from a fellow flock member’s cries, which is interesting as such. But if they were all born from one and the same 'queen bee’ as you put it, they might exhibit another characteristic I never thought about since they have no insectoid trace DNA.“  
Tyler straightened a little. "Insectoid? Like a swarm?“  
She smiled, eyes bright. "Yes! Not a flock, a swarm. The queen and her drones. If I’m right, we might be able to use this to lure them into one place and take them out!“  
"You mean a kind of mating call?“  
"No. No, they’re hermaphroditic. That wouldn’t work. But if they have a swarm mentality, using the queen might just be the ticket.“  
Tyler’s eyes lit up with the realization of what she was planning. "Lure them into a trap by using the queen’s calls?“  
Debevic nodded. "Exactly.“  
"So all we need is a recording from the first Shrieker?“  
"No. We need the real thing. Set it down in the trap, use it as bait, let it call.“  
"What if it doesn’t?“  
Debevic smiled grimly. "Then we are back to the drawing board.“  
Tyler’s face hardened. "I’ll get us that queen. They better hand it over or I’ll feed them to it!“

 * * *  
   
He came back into their tent to the sight of Burt trying to get up. His lover’s face was a grimace of pain, white, with deep lines, and he was sweating.  
"What do you think you’re doing?“ Reed exclaimed.  
Burt gasped and screwed his eyes shut, holding his injured arm. "I need to talk to Hansen.“  
"You need to lie down and rest!“  
"I’m fine.“  
Burt was the color of chalk.  
"Who the fuck do you think you are? Superman?“ Tyler bit out. "You just got your arm almost ripped off by a Shrieker!“  
"I’m the commanding officer of this unit! I need to know what’s going on.“  
"But you’re not invincible! Burt, you need to rest to get back on your feet. It won’t help anyone, least those guys out there, if you fall flat on your face!“ Tyler argued.  
"I’m the expert here,“ Gummer whispered hoarsely. "We’re in the middle of a war!“  
"No one needs a dead expert, Burt.“  
"This is for the morality of the troops!“  
"And your death!“  
"You have no idea about military procedure, Tyler!“  
"I don’t care about military procedure, I care about you!“ Reed yelled.  
"I am not important here. Eliminating the Shriekers is the prime objective,“ Burt explained matter-of-factly.  
"Then it won’t matter whether you’re there or not! What can an injured man do, Burt? You sent everyone else who got hurt out of here! But you are staying? Do you know what I expected to find when I heard your screams? A bloody smear on the ground! But here you are, alive and well, but you refuse to give your body a rest! Next time could kill you!“  
"There won’t be a next time.“  
Tyler was livid now, eyes sparking fire. "Because of what? You know how to blow them all to hell?“  
Burt gave him a narrow-eyed, warning look.  
"You know what, Gummer? You brought me here to be your partner, your back-up. You wanted me here as your 'handler’. But this isn’t you any more. This isn’t Burt Gummer. I don’t know who you are, but you can keep you military procedure and all, and shove it up your ass! I’m out of here!“  
Tyler turned on his heels and left the tent, boiling mad.

   
Burt watched him go. The lover was glad to see Tyler go, away from the danger, out of here. So was the colonel. He had brought him here, had thrown him into the middle of this massacre, this blood bath. His men were dying all around him and whatever they did, more men got injured or died. This had turned out to be a suicide mission.  
But the man underneath it all winced at the words, pained and hurt, and oh so beaten.

 * * *  
   
Tyler had calmed down somewhat by the time he had reached the other side of the camp, but the anger was still way too pronounced to go back and try to talk reasonably with Burt. He needed some distance to work through the fury at his lover’s behavior. And the returned feeling of a soul-deep pain, something hurting so intensely he had no words for it. He loved Burt, very much, but right now the old scars were ripped open again and all Tyler could feel was disgust and anger and… no, no hatred. He couldn't hate Burt as he had hated his father. Burt wasn't him.  
But he had hurt him the same nevertheless – without actually being aware of it. Then again, had his father ever really known? Had he been aware of what he had done to his family? It was terrifying to think that the answer was 'yes'.  
Finally, after fifteen more minutes of staring holes into the landscape, he straightened. The only way to end this was to finally kill all those Shriekers—without bombing the city. The threat of napalm was still a very real one.  
"Mr. Reed?“  
Surprised, he looked up and discovered Hansen.  
"Yeah?“  
"You’re a hard man to find,“ the other man remarked, smiling.  
Tyler just shrugged.  
"You okay?“  
That got Hansen a strange look and the captain sat down next to him.  
"You and Colonel Gummer are close, right?“  
"We’re friends. We worked together before and I respect the man,“ Tyler said calmly.  
"I share your respect and I know he’s a good soldier. You and he clashed.“  
"Do that all the time.“  
Hansen smiled slightly. "Well, in my line of work you don’t usually butt heads with your superiors.“  
Tyler smiled wryly. "Pardon me, but Burt’s hardly my superior.“  
"Yes, there’s that.“  
"And he’s the most stubborn man I’ve ever met, though I knew that before.“  
"Probably.“  
Tyler looked out over the landscape again and suddenly something popped up in is mind. A wild idea, an insane idea, but one that might just work… that might get them out of here soon.  
"Say, Captain, if I wanted to dig a deep hole somewhere… like a kind of pit… where would be the best place to do so in a hurry?“  
Hansen frowned. "The Highschool football field isn’t too far from here, located on Sixth Street. Do you have something special in mind?“  
Tyler smiled widely. "Oh yeah. We’re gonna get ourselves some Shriekers… using their very own queen bee.“

*

Returning, Tyler got the next shock. Burt Gummer was up and about, talking to a helicopter pilot.  
"Burt!“ he yelled, jogging over to the older man. "What’s going on?“  
"The aerial unit sighted three Assblasters,“ Gummer replied, voice tight.  
"Three?“ Tyler gasped.  
"Yes, and there might be more. They’re already airborne and circling. The winds are not in our favor and might let them glide across the ocean dividing them from mainland. We’re gonna take them out.“  
"But…“  
Tyler watched with a mixture of helplessness and anger as Burt stalked over to the helicopter, and he shook his head in disbelief. The man was injured, hadn’t slept well in the past four days and looked definitely way beyond exhaustion. His arm couldn’t be used and the pain must be hell. He wasn’t exactly sure, but as stubborn as this man was he most certainly didn’t even take his pain meds, just to remain alert.  
Right.  
And now he was on his way hunting down three Assblasters, for crying out loud. A normal Assblaster was smart and dangerous, but one hatched by these advanced Shriekers, not to mention three of them – he had no idea. And again Colonel Gummer was about to risk his life.  
Great.  
The slender form of his lover was about to disappear in the depths of the helicopter when Burt turned around. Tyler saw those dark expressive eyes as Burt removed his sunglasses for a moment, and for a moment there it was again, the connection that had started the moment Burt Gummer had saved a naïve young man from a Graboid attack and had thrown over the keys of his beloved truck after knowing him for only a day, the connection that had grown ever since and intensified over the last six months, the connection Tyler had missed dearly in the last days. Then Gummer inhaled once and put on his glasses again, disappearing into the helicopter before it took off.  
“Be careful, Burt,” Tyler whispered.  
And for a second he thought he heard a soft deep voice rumble into his ear “affirmative”.

Burt hesitated before boarding the helicopter and looked back for a second to where he knew Tyler was standing, watching him with those expressive gray eyes. Though he had thrown a lot of things at him he was still here, and a part of Burt was utterly surprised about that fact – and entirely grateful. Dark brown eyes bore into gray ones, and Burt could see Tyler was fighting against the urge to just follow him.  
Not this time, Tyler. I love you.  
Be careful, Burt.  
Affirmative.  
And then Colonel Gummer put his glasses back on and slid into the seat, ignoring the sharp lance of pain racing through his arm.  
The figure down on the ground was swallowed by a large cloud of dust as the helicopter took off. And for a brief second Burt Gummer asked himself if he had just said good-bye.

* * *

The pilot swore heavily when a sleek, dark shadow appeared in front of his windshield for a brief second – too close for comfort, causing the helicopter to sway profoundly. It veered off sharply, screeching, and dropped like a stone, the short wings angling for the optimum currents. Under normal circumstances Colonel Gummer would have given the man a lecture, but Burt understood where this was coming from.  
Damn those bastards all to hell!  
One Assblaster was bad, three were shit hitting the fan – but up here there were five of these creatures, taking them by surprise. One Assblaster was dangerous, three were hell to pay, but five – smart and fast under ordinary conditions, if any of this could be called ordinary, these S.O.B.’s had evolved from genetically engineered, enhanced, high-intelligent fighter Shriekers who had been designed for battle.  
And what was even worse – these creatures were even better, knowing when to attack and when to retreat, how to distract; and though they were up here with two helicopters, the original plan to hunt them down had now turned into a full fledged air battle.  
A cry of pain at his side told Burt the other soldier had been taken down, and he swore again. Slippery S.O.B.*s. They had successfully wiped out three of those things, the fourth was in plain sight, but the fifth was giving them a hard time. Before he could aim at the thing there was a screeching sound and a flapping of wings – and then he had his hands full with furious Assblaster. Literally. It had made a crash dive into the open hatch of the helicopter and was now all over him, hissing and clawing and aiming its ugly butt.  
Oh no, you don’t.  
Clenching his teeth he reached for his gun – when a flapping wing crashed into his injured arm, letting the world explode into a blast of white-hot pain.  
“Bastard!”  
Gripping the Magnum even closer he aimed at the screeching beast which turned and opened its three-jawed mouth at him – and then the interior of the helicopter was covered with ugly, slimy yellowish-orange Assblaster guts and pieces.  
“We got ‘em! Colonel, we got ‘em all!”  
Burt barely registered the excited voices around him through the haze of pain that clouded his vision, and which originated in his right arm. He carefully slipped a hand under the uniform jacket and when he pulled it out again the fingertips were covered in red.  
Tyler’s gonna strangle me …  
“Let’s head back, Captain. We’re not done yet.”

* * *

Tyler looked around from behind his cover, frowning at the closed-off Naval Base sitting in front of them. He and the group of Marines had managed to get to the other side of town almost unhindered. A flock of Shriekers that had tried to turn them into a snack had met a fast end; from then on, no Shrieker had shown itself, though the eerie calls had continued. It gave Tyler goosebumps to think of the chatter as an actual language – one they didn’t understand. It was like a code and they had no idea if the enemy was setting up a trap or telling the others to keep the hell away from the formation of jeeps.  
"Well, I think we should get going,“ he told Hansen, who was leading the Marines.  
The captain nodded and gestured at his men to take positions. They had been grouped into two teams: one would secure the perimeter, the other would get the queen out of the abandoned lab. It sounded easy, but Tyler didn’t believe in easy any more. While the Shriekers couldn’t get into the base, they might just attack them when the men were on their way out.

As it was, getting inside was almost child’s play. Hansen punched in the security code and the massive doors to the lab opened slowly. The whole complex had been tightly secured to keep a fully grown Shrieker inside. While the creature could go through sheet metal walls, it would have to give up on the reinforced version.  
A wild thought raced through Tyler – how had the Shrieker that had started all of this gotten out in the first place?  
Moving quickly through the empty hallways, the men finally arrived at the lab. Hansen used another keycode and they were in the heart of it all.  
Tyler swallowed hard when his eyes fell on the lab. It was a large room, more like a hangar, with a high ceiling, no windows, and everything illuminated sharply by the artificial lights. At his side, Hansen didn’t say a word, but his eyes expressed what he felt.  
"Shit!“ one of the Marines with them breathed, mouth open in horror and surprise.  
They walked into the room, trying not to shiver. Countless cylinder-shaped tubes decorated the lab, connected to a control unit of sorts. Half the cylinders were empty and the plastic covers looked smoky and slightly scratched. Some wires lay open. Further down the room the live machinery was located. Generators hummed softly, controls lit up, data reports scrolling down. Tyler approached one of the live cylinders. They were about his height but a lot wider in girth, easily able to hold a Shrieker, and filled with a reddish orange liquid. Something seemed to float through the liquid, small particles and stringy substances. And in the middle of the tank was a more or less shapeless blob. Some of the blobs were larger than the others.  
"Someone has been watching too many Frankenstein movies,“ he whispered, horrified.  
No one had told them about the true extent of the genetic engineering going on at this base. All they had talked about was playing around with one Shrieker, taking apart those it gave birth to.  
Tyler inhaled deeply. These tanks were birth tanks. They contained what scientists had cooked up from genetic material taken from the captured Shrieker – and the additions that had been made.  
"Let’s find the queen,“ he murmured, forcefully turning away from the tanks.

   
It was in a separate area of the lab, caged in, shrieking, calling out. It sounded almost plaintive at first, but the moment its heat detecting organs took in the humans, it started to make the same noise a hungry Shrieker would. Hansen nodded at one of the soldiers and the man pulled a gun loaded with tranquilizer. He shot the creature and after about a minute, it grew quiet, then collapsed.  
Hansen called one of the men outside and ordered the truck into position. The lab had huge sliding doors to the rear that led to a loading bay. It had been how the scientists had gotten the queen inside and it was how their team would get it out now.  
"No Shriekers outside,“ Hansen told Tyler. "My men haven’t seen one stubby tail.“  
Reed nodded, feeling slightly unwell despite how smoothly everything had gone so far. He tightened his hold on the gun as two of the soldiers used a crane to load the cage onto the flatbed truck, the queen out cold. He wondered how long it had been without food, and whether or not Shrieker could actually starve to death.  
"Incoming!“ someone suddenly yelled.  
Then gunfire erupted.  
"Protect the freight!“ Hansen screamed his orders. "At all costs! Walters, McCormack! Get that truck back to base. Don’t stop for anything!“  
The two men nodded and ran to the truck, which quickly started to pull out, the soldier at the wheel looking frightened but grim.  
Shriekers were converging at them, a huge flock, too. Tyler raised his gun and started firing at whatever moved. The Marines around him did the same.  
"They’re coming behind us!“ came the alarmed yell, then curses.  
"Shit!“ Reed whispered and sought cover behind a piece of machinery.  
There were about eight of them now pressing in through the door, but they were quickly taken care off. Still, it took firepower away from those outside, and the flock was large.  
"Where’s the truck?“ Hansen called, using the mike. "Affirmative. We’re on our way out.“  
Reed mowed down two more Shriekers and looked questioningly at the captain.  
"The truck reached the first point and Riverside’s team has taken care of the Shriekers attacking so far. Let’s get out of here.“  
"Good idea.“  
Hansen yelled his orders into the com, then both men surfaced from behind their cover, firing. Running toward the jeeps and safety, their way was paved by dead Shriekers and more live ones were going after them in their leaping gaits.  
The moment the first soldier reached the jeep, it was clear that while they had been able to almost easily ferry out the queen, their escape wouldn’t be so easy. The man screamed as armored jaws closed around his leg. Hansen fired and the Shrieker exploded into a mess of blood and gore. The other Marine grabbed his downed comrade, who was crying out in pain as he was pulled up.  
More of the things raced toward them and one Shrieker suddenly slammed into Tyler from the side, pushing him hard against the wall. He gasped, the sharp jaws ripping his sleeve and side, but the expected pain didn’t come. Instead, he saw stars, blackness encroaching on his vision. Tyler was aware only of his inability to breathe, the pain in his chest, and the weight of the animal.  
Then the Shrieker gave off a loud screech, its jaws opening wide. Tyler was barely aware of what happened next, only that from one second to the next he was covered in Shrieker blood and someone was trying to pull him away from the carcass.  
"Reed? Are you okay?“  
Hansen, his brain told him.  
"Yes,“ he coughed. "Just… winded.“  
His ribs felt as if someone had tried to apply a vice to it.  
"Let’s go then!“ Hansen ordered.  
Body aching, he jogged toward the exit, Hansen in tow, covering them. The wounded Marine was lying in the back of the jeep, barely conscious, a compress around one leg, which was already bloody.  
"Step on it, Jones!“ Hansen ordered and the other man complied.  
No more Shriekers barred their way, though Tyler saw three running down one alley. Still a bit stunned from the full body slam, he just watched them disappear.  
They had the queen.  
One step closer to victory, he mused. Hopefully.  
They were about a mile away from the lab when a huge explosion ripped through the air.  
"What the…?“ he started, then caught Hansen’s satisfied smile. "What was that?“  
Hansen shrugged. "Must’ve misplaced my C4 somewhere in there. Whoops.“  
Tyler stared at him, then started to laugh, a laughter into which Hansen joined in.

 * * *  
   
The helicopter landed exactly where it had taken off hours ago – but it didn’t look as good as it had then. The Assblasters had done a fair job with it before they had finally been able to simply blast their ugly asses into the sky.  
Tyler stumbled through the dust cloud toward the helicopter when the door was opened. He wanted to tell his lover about their success with the Shrieker queen when Burt all but fell into his arms. He looked utterly spent, the lines of fatigue and exhaustion deeper than ever in his face, and from the tension around his mouth and eyes Tyler could see he was in pain. He was covered in Assblaster blood and parts and some things Tyler didn’t really want to think about.  
"Shit, what happened to you?“  
"One got inside,“ came the tired answer, more a hoarse whisper than anything else.  
"What?! Are you okay?“  
"Yeah,“ was all the taller man could get out.  
The pilot, who had shut down the machine, was hurrying around to them. His wide eyes showed horror and fear as he looked at his commanding officer and Tyler.  
"We lost Richards,“ he told Reed. "I think one of those things got the Colonel.“  
"Oh hell!“ Tyler whispered, catching his lover as he almost collapsed and holding him upright. He felt the tense muscles under the fabric of the uniform – and the slight trembling, too. And then he noticed the soaked sleeve. The soaked, right sleeve.  
"Shit, Burt!“ He turned his head and yelled, "Medic! Beyers!“  
“No time. There’s still Shriekers out there, just waiting for us,” Gummer protested, trying to straighten, but he fell back with a moan.  
Pounding boots alerted Tyler to the doctor approaching. "Damnit, Gummer!“  
"I’m fine,“ Burt whispered roughly.  
"Right!“ Beyers growled. "I can see from here that you’ve ripped those stitches apart. You coming on your own two feet or do I need to employ some Marines to carry you to the tent?“  
Tyler watched with growing concern as the fight left the man he loved and Burt nodded, allowing himself to be led to the first aid tent.  
Inside, he watched as Beyers cut open the soiled uniform sleeve and shoulder, and his sick feeling increased. So much blood...  
"You ripped the stitches,“ Beyers commented, sounding very much displeased.  
Burt just stared ahead, grunting.  
"What happened?“  
"Assblaster. Son of a bitch got inside and hit me with one wing. It’s dead.“ The explanation was delivered levelly and without emotions, but Tyler felt his own starting to boil.  
Beyers shook his head and began his work.  
It took a while to remove the torn stitches and Burt was given an injection twice to keep the pain tolerable. When the medic had applied the last one, he nodded at his assistant to bind the wound. Burt had had his eyes closed the whole time and Tyler wanted to do nothing more than to touch him, hold his hand, but he stayed back.  
When Burt started to make moves to sit up, a dark thundercloud settled over Beyers’ face.  
"Colonel Gummer! Are you trying to get yourself permanently handicapped? You strain that arm any more and I can’t guarantee for rehabilitation!“  
"Doctor, my arm is the least of my concerns right now,“ Burt managed, sitting up with a grimace of pain.  
"It should be. You might lose it! This is a deep wound and it requires more than field treatment. Colonel Gummer, I’m aware of the severity of the situation, but you either get some rest or I use my power as the chief medical doctor on site and remove you from your command!“  
"You do that and I’ll have McBain kick your sorry ass from here into the heart of Coronado!“  
"You just try!“ Beyers shot back.  
“I don’t need anything, doc, I’m fine.” Burt hissed as he carefully slipped the uniform sleeve over his freshly bandaged arm.  
“You have a wound in your arm that looks as if you’ve had a run-in with a mad bull, Colonel! You need rest!”  
“And we've got an unknown number of Shriekers out there, ready to evolve into an unknown number of enhanced Assblasters. We needed two teams for five of ‘em, and I sure as hell don’t need more.”  
“Burt,” Tyler cut in, “you can’t fight in your condition. Please, get some rest.”  
Colonel Gummer turned sharply. “And then what?”  
“How about letting me help? You’re not the lone ranger here.”  
“Concern acknowledged.”  
"Oh, for crying out loud,” Beyers shook his head. “Then at least take these!“ He thrust a small vial at Gummer.  
"Beyers…“  
"Do it or I’ll start thinking about calling McBain to order you to take them! That at least I can do!“  
Burt glared back, but Tyler was glad that he took the pills. He swallowed them dry, then walked away, his gait unsteady. Reed sighed.  
"Give the medication some time,“ Beyers said softly.  
"What? What did you give him?“ Tyler demanded.  
"Nothing but painkillers, Mr. Reed. But his body is reaching its limits and the moment the medication sets in, he relaxes, and he’ll be out.“  
Tyler stared at him. "Son of a…“  
"Mr. Reed?“  
One of the Marines was jogging up to him. "We’re done. The pit’s complete. We’re ready, sir.“  
Reed blinked. "Okay… Bring in the queen and tie her down in the middle as planned.“  
"Yes, sir.“  
Tyler looked at Beyers. "Keep an eye on Burt?“  
The doctor smiled. "Of course. Go and take out those things for good.“  
Tyler only smiled grimly.

 * * *

The pit was deeper than Tyler had first thought and he had to give it to those men: they had done fantastic work. It was funnel shaped, almost like a meteor crater, with a broad rim, and Hansen had explained that they had buried explosive charges underneath the sand.  
Prepared for everything.  
Another team had deposited the still tranquilized queen at the bottom of the pit, still in its cage. It would wake soon and then it could begin.  
Tyler hoped it worked. It was their last chance. The pit was designed that whatever stepped onto its walls would loosen the sand and therefore slide into its centre without being able to climb up again, like the trap of an ant lion, a larvae which hunted its prey this way. Debevic had been very useful in helping design the pit. She really knew her bugs.  
Hansen had placed his men strategically so they wouldn’t be detected by the Shriekers, yet were able to eliminate the creatures from above. Now they had no other option than to wait. And pray. They had been given six days and they were running out of time. This was their last chance and should this maneuver fail – well, Tyler didn’t even want to think about that. Napalm burned hot.  
“It’s coming around.”  
The anaesthetized Shrieker started to move in its cage, making soft chittering sounds, before it started a well known rattle.  
“That’s it, call them. Call them all,” Tyler mumbled, watching the surroundings through his binoculars.  
The cries of the queen were unnerving, rubbing Tyler all the wrong way, and he saw that the soldiers were uneasy, too. Debevic hovered in the back, her headphones on, listening.  
And then they heard the first distinctive answering chatters.  
"Here they come," Hansen suddenly whispered.  
Tyler saw them. A lot of them. A whole damn lot of them!  
"Shit," he murmured.  
Hansen nodded. "And we thought we had taken care of a good lot."  
Reed smiled humorlessly. "Never think..."  
"True."  
The first ones were closing in, pouring in from the wide entrance, heading immediately over to where the queen was calling out. Unlike before, they didn't hesitate. They slid down the funnel and banged against the cage, chattering. The queen screeched, hungry and desperate.  
Hansen activated the com.  
"Get ready, men. No heroics. Just kill them off."  
Affirmatives were given and Tyler gripped his gun more tightly.  
"Now!" the captain bellowed.  
An explosion of sound ripped through the air and the first Shriekers fell in a mass of torn flesh and sprays of blood. The fury, anger and frustration of everyone unloaded itself on the creatures, which had no chance. And they were still coming, following their queen's calls despite the fact that they were actually hermaphroditic. Whatever the scientists had made out of them, it had become their Achilles' heel. Some of the Shriekers veered off from the pit and attacked the Marines, but they were ready. It was a massacre.  
"Detonate!" Hansen yelled.  
The ground seemed to come apart as the explosive charges went off. Earth and sand slid into the pit, carrying with it more Shriekers, most of them already dead. By now, their numbers had been reduced dramatically, and those at the back were under siege from the teams that had been waiting outside the football field and had started to attack from behind.  
Tyler listened to the rising shrieks from the queen, which was by now fighting against the masses of sand, earth and dead bodies starting to push against the cage, piling up... starting to smother it.  
He moved closer to the creature and sighted along his rifle.  
Taking pity on it, he pulled the trigger. Bullets ripped it apart, silencing the calls, while its offspring died all around.

 * * *  
   
Burt didn’t know what exactly Beyers had given him, but the medication had knocked him out like a light. He had slept through it all, the whole preparations to eliminate the Shriekers once and for all. Then again, maybe his body had simply shut down, taking his restless mind with it, and the doctor had nothing to do with it. Even now, after some sleep, he still felt fuzzy, like he wasn’t really there, and his shoulder ached. It was a dull ache, not the sharp stabs of before, but it throbbed with every heartbeat. The headache wasn’t any better.  
Lying on his good side, his eyes closed, he heard someone enter the tent, then clothes rustled. Burt opened his eyes and discovered his lover. Tyler had his back turned to him and was in the process of peeling off his soiled uniform jacket, followed by the t-shirt. Burt’s eyes widened as he got a good look at the muscular back.  
There was a large bruise wrapping itself around Tyler’s ribcage and spreading over the back. It looked colorful and had to hurt, and each of Tyler’s moves was slow and spoke of the discomfort he felt. Reed turned and Burt saw that the bruise was more pronounced on the ribs and stomach. Something must have slammed into his lover, pushing him into a wall or something equally hard. It must have happened a day or so ago; the bruises were already in full bloom.  
Exhaustion was visible in the dirty face and there were deep lines where normally only smooth skin could be seen. Gray eyes suddenly met his and Burt held the tired gaze.  
"It’s over,“ Tyler said slowly, voice level. "We got them all. None escaped.“  
Burt blinked. It was? How long had he slept?  
With slow, measured moves, Tyler stripped off his shoes and pants. Burt winced in sympathy as every move seemed to intensify Tyler’s discomfort.  
"Hansen’s still fine-combing the city, but it’s over. Hopefully.“  
"How…?“ Burt asked, his voice sounding like he hadn’t used it in a long time.  
Tyler turned and for a moment he swayed slightly, catching himself on the locker. Without looking at Burt, who felt his worry multiply, he reached for some clean clothes, even though he wasn’t overly clean himself. Gummer knew that he wouldn’t make it into a shower and out; Reed was close to a collapse.  
"Had a plan. It worked.“ He smiled humorlessly. "We were lucky.“  
Using his limited reserve of strength, Burt sat up slowly. The motion alerted his lover and Tyler shot him a worried look.  
"Stay down, Burt. The men are handling everything. You need to rest,“ Tyler advised calmly. "And I’ll tell you everything in detail later.“  
And what about you?  
Suddenly he understood Reed’s worries, his behavior toward himself, because it was what he currently felt.  
His thoughts must have reflected in his eyes because Tyler’s showed the answer. Both men gazed at each other, a silent conversation that needed no words. Burt had never felt so open, so vulnerable under the knowing, gray eyes, and he could read the same vulnerability and unease in Tyler. And he saw the bone-deep weariness, the equally deep pain that stemmed from more than physical injuries, and part of him curled up in despair. He was part of that pain.  
I love you, he thought. God, I love you.  
Tyler smiled slightly, the reply clearly readable in his expression.  
"I’m going to get some rest now. Hansen will come by in a few hours for a final report. Promise me you won’t wander about, Burt. Please?“  
He nodded slowly and sank back into his original position, wishing the other man could be at his side. Tyler, leaning against the locker for support, smiled sadly.  
"We’ll be out of here soon,“ he whispered, then made it over to his own bed.  
Burt watched him lower himself slowly and carefully onto the mattress, then try and find a painless position. There apparently was none and after a while, Tyler just lay on his back, eyes closed.  
He wanted to be home. Badly. His little haven of Perfection, the place he called home and truly meant it. A place where he had a small family of friends who he could rely on and trust. A place where his past hadn’t just tried to kill him again.

* * *

Tyler was the one who saw Dr. Debevic off. She gave him a critical look as they stood by the helicopter that would fly her home.  
"You look like shit, cowboy."  
"Yeah, well… there's worse."  
She smiled grimly. "True. How's Gummer?"  
"Sleeping. He's getting airlifted out of here in an hour. Bitched about it, but Hansen can do the rest. They don't need him any more."  
"Keep an eye on him."  
"I will."  
She smiled again, this time with more humor. "Well, I'm outta here now. Too bad my notes had to be destroyed. It would have made one hell of a book."  
Tyler chuckled. "Yeah, well, better not. The press is just salivating to get their claws in us. I've no idea what crap the Army is feeding them, but the less anyone knows…"  
She nodded. "… the better. Good-bye, Tyler. Take care."  
"You too."  
Tyler watched the helicopter lift off and for a moment, he felt kind of homesick once more. He wanted to be out of here. Badly.

* * *  
   
It took three more days. Three days in which Burt spent most of the time in a hospital in San Diego, where Tyler had also given him an explicit explanation as to what had happened while Burt had been sleeping. His lover had been stunned, surprised, amazed -- and a bit angry, but that anger had soon evaporated. The doctors weren’t very happy about the condition of his arm, but it wasn’t as bad as Tyler had first feared. It needed rehab and therapy, but the specialist was sure that Burt would regain full use. The dislocated shoulder was sore, but it wouldn’t be a problem either.  
Reed himself had been checked through, but except for the deep bruising, there wasn’t much more damage. He spent most of his time with Burt when there wasn’t an Army official trying to debrief their Colonel – until Burt exploded and verbally pushed the man out his hospital room. From then on, the nurses and doctors kept the officials away – for the sake and health of their patient.  
Tyler didn’t watch a lot of TV. The news coverage was nation-wide and the blame for the catastrophe was pushed from one person to the next. There wasn't much detail available on what had happened. The Army was busy cleaning Shrieker bodies from the streets and out of houses, but it looked like the only way to decontaminate the whole place was to use heat bombs that would burn whatever organic materials were there. It was a last option scenario. It would take months, if not years, for Coronado to be back to normal. For now, people were still not allowed to go back and Tyler doubted it would ever as before.  
It was a mess.  
But somehow, Reed didn’t care. His only concern lay in a hospital, drugged up to his eyebrows and in pain. He would get Burt home the minute the doctors gave him the go-ahead.  
That was three days later.

 * * *  
   
"I have to congratulate you on a job well-done.“ McBain smiled at Burt, who gave no indication of happiness at the words.  
"Too many men died,“ Gummer ground out. "Too many were injured. This madness could have been prevented if you would just listen to warnings!“  
"Now, Burt, don’t get overly excited,“ McBain said calmly. "It was a risk and every man or woman out in the field knew it.“  
"The people living next to a research lab playing with Shriekers didn’t!“  
The General sighed softly, but he appeared unconcerned. "It was an acceptable risk.“  
Burt felt his temper rise. He had been released from the hospital this morning, with strict orders to take it easy, to rest a lot, and no stress. Well, he planned to follow them—the moment he was home!  
"I know the phrases, so don’t give me this shit. I went through hell because of your 'acceptable risks’ once, McBain. This time was just the same. You called me to help, but you hid vital information, you risked people’s lives, and every death out there is just another number!“  
"Their deaths were in not in vain.“  
"Oh, yes, it was glorious! Ripped to pieces by a Shrieker on steroids!“ Burt leaned forward, dark eyes blazing. "I followed your call because you left me no choice. Next time, I won’t. There will be no next time! Understood?“  
McBain’s face was unreadable. "You always were good, Burt, and you always were compassionate.“  
And if another Shrieker or Graboid situation should arise, he was still the expert to call. And he might just answer. It made Burt sick.  
"You’re receiving adequate compensation for your help,“ McBain went on and Burt’s disgust rose. "As is Mr. Reed. He was a valuable asset. You always chose your friends and partners well, Burt.“  
"At least I now know who to trust,“ Burt growled and turned, walking toward the exit.  
"Burt?“  
He stopped, looking back at the other man.  
"Good work.“  
He snarled silently and ripped the door open, leaving the office once and for all.

*

Tyler sat outside the office on one of the rather comfortable chairs, hurting all over. His muscles were stiff, his body bruised, and he was fighting a headache that stemmed from too little sleep. But he also felt good. He was wearing his own clothes again, down to the boots and leather jacket, and it felt like he had finally buried a part of his life that hadn't lasted all that long but seemed like eternity.  
Behind the closed doors, he heard voices, one rather loud, and he had to smile. It was clearly Burt. He couldn’t understand a thing that was said, but the mood, the tone of voice, was very clear. His lover was pissed off; in pain and pissed off. A bad combination.  
They had come here about an hour ago, for the final debriefing, and Burt had been livid already. Now, after everything was over and they had had a chance to almost calmly look at it all, too many things made such a sick sense. Genetically engineered Shriekers… and one had escaped the lab, destroying part of the machinery. It had multiplied and the horror had started. Too much had been hidden from them, too much had been disclosed only after people had had to die. Tyler had no idea just how many soldiers had lost their lives, how many civilians, but just one had been one too many. He wanted to go home, leave this madness behind.  
And now he understood just why Burt distrusted the government, why he had moved into the middle of nowhere...  
It was where Tyler wanted to be with him again.  
Suddenly the door opened and Burt walked out, his worn face a mask but his eyes on fire. There were lines in his face that couldn’t be associated with pain, and each step was measured. Tyler rose, looking at the older man, silently asking a question. He received an answer and it both scared and elated him.  
They were going home, but the price to pay had been high.  
Stopping outside in the shadow of the building, Burt slipped on his glasses and looked over to the airfield.  
"A helicopter is getting us back in an hour,“ he told Tyler.  
"Not a minute too late.“  
A weary smiled graced the too pale lips.  
"You think we could get a coffee or something?“ Reed asked.  
Burt nodded and started to walk over to a small building off the airfield. It consisted of only one room, with an adjoining toilet, and it was home to a coffee machine, a fridge and a couch that, though a bit battered, looked comfy.  
"Want one, too?“ Tyler asked.  
Gummer nodded wordlessly and so he got them both a cup. Burt stood at the window that gave a good view of the airfield and Tyler silently placed the cup on the window sill as he joined him. Burt took it after a while and sipped carefully, both men keeping their silence. Tyler saw the fine tremors racing through the taller man and he automatically reached out, not caring whether anyone saw them or not. Colonel Gummer was retired; this was his Burt. And Burt unexpectedly leaned into the comfort. Tyler was surprised when the good arm curled around his waist, pulled him close, into the first, real contact since the whole mess had started. He felt the tremors increase in silence and Tyler rubbed gently over the slim back. Burt buried his head against his neck, warm breath ghosting over his skin.

He didn’t know what to say and there was so much he had to. He wanted to apologize, say he was sorry. For everything. Especially his behavior.  
No words came out.  
Burt held on tighter, fighting to overcome the barrier. He had to address the issue, but Burt Gummer had always been abysmal with words. It was like all those times Tyler had thanked him for something, like saving his tour from being shut down by Twitchell by putting his Survival School on the line. He had tried it twice, and both times Burt had fled from the emotions.  
This time, a tactical retreat was the worst possible option.  
The way he had treated Tyler would have driven other men away; it had driven Heather away – and she had been married to him a lot longer than Tyler had been his lover. He had expected Reed to leave the first time they had clashed, the first time Colonel Gummer had nearly bitten Tyler’s head off. But he had stayed. Then the second time… and Tyler had told him that he was out of here. But he hadn’t really left; only the tent, but not the base. His back-up, his catalyst and buffer, had stayed on. He had been his support, his strength, and Burt knew he wouldn’t have been able to get through this without Tyler. It sounded corny, but it was the truth.  
He trusted him like he had trusted Heather.  
Heather had left him.  
Screwing his eyes shut, he tried to suppress the moan of desperation, but something snuck out anyway.  
"Shhhh….“ Tyler whispered.  
The hand on his back moved in a soothing pattern and Burt inhaled deeply, smelling his lover, the shampoo, the warmth, and something inside of him shivered.  
"Sorry,“ he managed.  
It was such a pitiful word to express something so profound.  
Tyler never stopped his caress.  
The sound of a helicopter engine warming up had Burt straighten. He almost reluctantly stepped away from Tyler, dark eyes holding the expressive gray ones. Tyler smiled and gently patted his chest.  
"Let’s go home,“ he only said.  
Burt gave him a watery smile and nodded wordlessly.  
Home.

 * * *  
   
The helicopter blades cutting through the air had a strange lull to them and Tyler found himself sinking against the seat, but he couldn’t just close his eyes and sleep. Despite the knowledge that it would take a while until they were back in Perfection Valley, he didn’t want to rest.  
Glancing over at his lover, he bit his lower lip at the gray color of the man’s face, the haggard look, the deep lines of pain. Burt had his eyes closed, his good arm wrapped around his chest to keep the injured one motionless, and despite the painkillers, Tyler suspected he was still uncomfortable.  
He carefully touched the older man and it drew a startled reaction out of him, followed by a soft moan. Burt screwed his eyes shut and fought the pain.  
"Burt, go to sleep,“ Tyler said softly.  
Exhaustion was the main problem and as long as Gummer didn’t grant his body any rest, the painkillers couldn’t really work effectively.  
Dull, brown eyes looked at him and Tyler smiled warmly. "I’ll wake you when we get home.“  
And then the tall frame sank against him, Burt seeking comfort in the only person he knew and trusted up here. Tyler adjusted for the weight, but he stopped himself from wrapping an arm around the other man’s shoulders. It would only aggravate the injury.

   
They touched down two hours later

 * * *  
   
Tyler wearily sank onto the bed, freshly showered, dressed in only his sweatpants, and for a moment, he just sat there, completely still. Exhaustion was running through his body and mind, but he couldn’t relax just yet. Burt lay on the bed already, sleeping the sleep of the dead, still mostly dressed. Tyler had been able to get the boots, jacket and pants off, but that was about it. Gummer had simply collapsed on him.  
He had called Jodi to let her know that they were back. She had fired worried questions at him, but he had cut her off, promising to come by tomorrow. Then they would all talk. He had assured her that he and Burt were fine, even if they were a bit bruised and battered. A lot battered in Burt’s case.  
Reaching out, Tyler gently ran his fingers through the thinning hair, smiling softly. He had wondered about Burt’s past, about his connection to the military, and throughout the last week, he had gotten a glimpse. It scared him. Especially the fact that someone could simply reassign his lover and throw him into these fucked-up situations. Hunting a flock of Shriekers in a small Arizona town was one thing, but fighting genetically engineered weapons, without having access to the most vital information….?  
No way. Never again, he vowed. He wouldn’t let Burt get injured like this ever again. Not because of some crazy operation from the Army, Navy or Airforce. Small town trouble, yes. This? No!  
Carefully stretching out beside his lover, Tyler sought as much physical nearness as he could without disturbing the sleeping man.  
He needed a long time to go to sleep.  
And it was a restless one.

 * * *

Perfection.  
Tyler smiled as he steered the truck into town. He had missed this place. The store, Nancy's house with the winter garden, the ramshackle garage he called his own business, the water tower… everything. People called this place 'backwater' or even 'primitive', but here was where he lived, worked, and where he had found his place. If someone had told Tyler that he would consider his future in such a remote desert place, he would have laughed.  
But people changed.  
Dreams changed.  
And up until nine months ago, he wouldn't have believed his dreams would include a man by the name of Burt Gummer.  
This time, Tyler's smile was wider. He didn't know what it was that had attracted him to Burt in the first place. His spirit, his power, his strength, and the little bit of healthy paranoia, too. Burt wasn't as antisocial as he always said he was, and he had a heart of gold.  
Parking the truck next to the gas pumps, Tyler jumped out and was nearly overrun by Jodi. The woman grabbed him, looked at him, then broke into a relieved smile.  
"Am I glad to see you again!"  
And then he was hugged.  
Tyler blinked in surprise, then gave a little laugh. "Well, hello…"  
"Tyler!"  
And he was caught in another hug, this time from Nancy. She pushed him back a little, looked him up and down, her face stern.  
"What happened to you guys? Where's Burt?" She shook her head she continued to visually examine him. "You look bad, Tyler."  
"Could we go inside, maybe have a coffee?" Tyler begged. "I'll tell you everything then."  
They walked into the store and Jodi immediately took three mugs, filling them to the rim.  
"Where's Rosalita?" Tyler wanted to know as he savored the wonderful aroma.  
"She and Harlow went into Bixby for fences."  
"Oh. Okay."  
"She'll be back this evening," Nancy added.  
"Now spill it, Tyler," Jodi pressed on. "What happened in Coronado? We heard the news, but that's only the tip of the iceberg, right? I mean, we know government top security. What did you guys do?"  
Tyler smiled slightly, then started to tell their tale.

*

He returned from his trip to town to the sight of his lover up and about. Well, staggering about was more like it.  
He had taken longer in Perfection than he had planned to, but the women had wanted to know what had happened in San Diego and he had given them the full story. Tyler didn’t hold with top secret and eyes only, and no one had told him personally not to share it with Nancy, Rosalita and Jodi. They knew about the Shriekers anyway.  
Stunned silence, outrage cries and shocked faces accompanied his tale, followed by questions as to how Burt was. Tyler calmed them down, told them Burt was fine, just needed rest, and had dislocated his shoulder. Nancy immediately gave him a ton of good advice, ending with a 'no exercise just yet’, which had the women grinning knowingly.  
Tyler sighed and shook his head.  
"You’re up,“ he greeted his lover who was sitting at his monitor, checking backlogs. "And you shouldn’t be.“  
Burt gave an annoyed grunt.  
Tyler stopped in front of the chair and deftly turned it around, wincing at the sickly pallor of his partner.  
"Burt, that can wait,“ he said softly, voice laced with underlying steel.  
Troubled brown eyes looked up and he leaned down, gently kissing the man.  
"I brought food,“ he whispered, tenderly massaging the good shoulder. "Nancy packed me dinner for the next decade it seems and Jodi helped me with the groceries.“  
Burt sighed softly, resting his head against Tyler’s chest, his good arm wrapping around his lover as he sank forward. Tyler ran a hand through the hair, caressing, stroking, trying to relax the older man. The last Burt now needed was to worry about El Blanco and whatnot.  
"I’ll check the tapes,“ he whispered. "Just get back to bed, okay? I want you to heal.“  
And he got him into bed, with gentle coaxing and soft promises. Burt sank onto the mattress and Tyler covered him once more. His eyes fell on the pain medication on the night stand.  
"Did you take any of those?“  
"Yes,“ was the barely audible answer, the first word Gummer had spoken.  
"Good. Now rest a little. I’ll see to the tapes, then whip something up to eat.“  
"Tyler?“  
The soft voice stopped him and he leaned over Burt again, who was barely awake. "Yeah?“  
"Thank you.“  
And with that he was out like a light.  
Tyler felt a warm smile cross his face and he caressed the relaxed face. "You're more than welcome, love," he murmured. "Always."

 * * *  
   
He woke with a silent gasp, eyes opening wide without seeing much at first, and the darkness scared him more than anything else for a second. Then memories settled in.  
The bunker. Bedroom. In bed.  
Just a nightmare.  
A very vivid one.  
And as always, it had contained Shriekers and Assblasters and people getting torn to pieces. People that had an uncanny resemblance to his lover.  
Tyler sat up slowly and briefly glanced at Burt, who lay whole and healthy at his side. He drew a shaky breath and ran both hands through his tousled hair, then buried his head in his hands.  
Damn nightmares.  
And they weren’t getting any better. If at all, they grew worse since the images were blurrier, the tension rising, and he just knew that something was out there after his lover. Faceless, hidden, but it made noises, and it called out… taunting him… and he was always too late.  
The mattress moved and Tyler started as a large, warm hand touched him.  
"Tyler,“ a rough voice whispered and he looked around, eyes swimming with the belated, emotional reaction to it all.  
Burt’s face was cast in twilight and hard to read, but the soft tug on his arm was hard to ignore. Tyler sank back against his lover, who easily took him into his arms, even if one was still rather immobile from the bandages and the sling. He tried not to fall onto it, but Burt just pulled him slowly closer.  
No words were lost.  
He just held him.  
And Tyler felt his tears slide freely over his face, strangely unashamed by the emotional display. Then again, he couldn’t care less. Everything was suddenly bursting through the cracked dam that had held it in for so long, that had contained the horror. All the death, all the carnage, all the senseless killings…  
Burt rested his chin on Tyler’s head, stroking through the longish hair, holding him. Just holding him.  
It was more than enough.

 * * *

Jodi Chang was just on her way back into her store when she saw the car approach. She frowned, then her face turned into a mask as a man in an Army uniform got out of the limousine, just to open the back door of the car. Jodi had no idea about Army ranks, but to have a driver, this guy was probably somewhere in the upper ones. Still, the fact that the guy was Army set off alarm bells and she was hard pressed not to simply lock the door and hope he would take the hint.  
As it was, the man walked into the store, looking around with an air of interest. Jodi sized him up as she busied herself with something else. He was maybe in his fifties, hair gray and cut short, and he had kept himself in shape.  
"Can I help you?“ she asked, sounding neutral.  
"I’m looking for Burt Gummer.“  
Now the alarm bells were screaming shrilly. "Who?“ Jodi asked, feigning ignorance.  
The man smiled. "Burt Gummer. I think he lives somewhere outside this quaint little town.“  
Jodi crossed her arms in front of her chest. "And who might you be?“  
"General Jack McBain.“  
That name was almost enough to send her into a fury. Tyler had mentioned the man – the very person who had recalled Burt, who had sent him through hell, who had nearly gotten him killed.  
Instead she smiled sweetly, a smile that grew when she discovered Nancy walking out from the back of the store where she had heard everything.  
"I think we have to talk, General…“

* * *

Tyler smiled at the man in his bed and he tenderly brushed a hand over the relaxed face. Burt was deeply asleep and didn’t even twitch. It showed how much the trip to the doctor in Bixby had strained him. The regular checks were necessary and they were good news, but the long drive took a lot out of the still hurting man.  
Getting dressed, Tyler decided to head over to the store and get them something to eat. He didn’t want to wake Burt just yet by making something to eat in his tiny kitchenette.  
Enjoying the warm morning sun, he stretched and walked across the dusty, packed ground. His good mood dropped severely when he discovered the car parked out front of Jodi’s business. It had Army plates.  
Army.  
No!  
Entering the store, he was treated to the sight of Jodi Chang verbally ripping General Jack McBain a new one. She was livid. Her eyes were sparking, her face a mirror of fury, and she had backed the much taller man into a corner, still not letting up. And where Jodi was direct, Nancy Sterngood was even more so. Tyler leaned against the wall, enjoying the show.  
Suddenly McBain discovered him and his face lit up with relief. "Mr. Reed!“  
Nancy’s hand on his dress uniform stopped him.  
"You get within five feet of him or Burt Gummer I won’t guarantee for anything!“  
That from a peace-loving woman, Tyler mused, surprised by the protectiveness.  
"I came here to thank Mr. Tyler and Colonel Gummer…“  
"That’s Mr. Gummer,“ Tyler ground out.  
McBain shot him a curious look.  
"And we don’t need your thanks, McBain. All I want is for you to leave us both alone!“  
"You didn’t complain about the money.“  
Tyler bristled. "You expect me to almost die for free? Or to watch Burt getting nearly ripped in two by a Shrieker without compensation?“  
McBain stepped forward, but now Jodi joined Nancy in forming a living, breathing wall between them.  
"Why are you here?“ Tyler demanded.  
"To thank you and to give Burt Gummer what is rightfully his.“  
Reed frowned and when the general took out a small box, he started to feel sick. No way… Everything inside of him tensed, spoiling for a fight, and he knew he wouldn't let Burt go down that road again. He would stop McBain from inflicting any more harm, from calling out the Colonel again, even if it cost him everything.  
The door opening once more had him turn around. To his surprise he discovered his lover. Burt looked tired, but much better than when they had come from Bixby. Apparently he had woken while Tyler had come over here. The moment his eyes fell on McBain, his features closed up.  
The other man smiled. "Hello, Burt.“  
Burt didn’t say anything and everyone tensed.  
"The United States Army and the President asked me to present you with…“ McBain started, but Burt abruptly shook his head.  
"Keep it,“ was all he said. He turned on his heels and left with measured, painfully hard steps.  
Tyler glared at the Army man and followed his lover.  
"Burt!“ he called.  
Gummer stopped at the other end of the store and Tyler saw the tension radiating from the man.  
"Burt…“  
"A medal!“ Burt spat. "The nerve!“  
"We could always feed it to El Blanco,“ Tyler said softly as he placed a calming hand on Burt’s back, rubbing slowly.  
"Good idea.“  
Tyler wrapped an arm around his lover’s waist and briefly embraced him. Burt returned the open gesture almost easily and it spoke of his inner turmoil. They normally never were that open in public, but Gummer needed it. Ever since Coronado, they both needed it.  
When Tyler stepped back, he was aware of someone coming closer. He moved almost automatically between Burt and McBain, who had Jodi and Nancy in tow, both women showing their anger and disgust openly.  
"Burt, I only came here to give this to you,“ McBain said, but his eyes now traveled between the two men, a curious expression in his eyes.  
"I don’t want it.“  
McBain placed it onto the window sill next to him. "It’s yours,“ he simply said. "As is the President’s thanks and a promotion.“  
"He can keep that, too. As for a promotion, I'm retired, Jack. Stuff it where the sun don't shine.“  
The general sighed softly, then the smile was back. "You always were a hardhead, Burt. It was good seeing you again.“ Then his eyes were on Tyler. "Mr. Reed, take care of him. He needs someone like you. I know that now.“  
He looked at Burt again and suddenly saluted. Gummer didn’t so much as twitch a muscle as a United States Army General gave him the honor of saluting. Tyler stood like thunderstruck. McBain turned, nodded at both women, then started to walk back to the car. He suddenly stopped and turned to Jodi.  
"Might I bother you for a cup of coffee?"  
"We're out," Jodi replied coldly.  
McBain regarded her with a smile, then nodded. "Good bye."  
"Good riddance,“ Nancy huffed, then looked at Burt, who appeared to be cut from stone. "You okay?“  
"Fine,“ he growled, then walked away.  
Tyler gave them both a smile and hurried after his lover, ignoring the car that pulled away.  
Good riddance indeed.

Burt was leaning against the tour jeep, looking kind of lost and alone. Tyler joined him, hopping onto the flatbed, and waited. When nothing was forthcoming for five minutes, he looked at the unreadable features, partially hidden behind the sunglasses.  
"You knew the guy well once, hm?“  
Burt nodded briskly. "I thought I knew him.“  
"He still thinks he knows you.“  
"He knows nothing at all,“ Gummer ground out.  
"How well?“ Tyler wanted to know after another prolonged silence.  
Burt turned his head and gazed at him, lips a thin line, a cheek muscle twitching.  
"You were together?“ Reed asked carefully.  
"Yes.“  
"How long?“  
Burt sighed. "It doesn’t matter. It was another life. A lifetime ago.“  
Tyler chewed on his lower lip. "Okay,“ he said slowly and slid off the truck bed.  
It shouldn’t matter, he told himself. It really shouldn’t. It was the past, Burt’s history, and McBain wasn’t a danger to their relationship, but still…  
Burt followed him into the garage, calling out softly. "Tyler.“  
He stopped and looked at his lover, who appeared tired and worn out from the brief encounter.  
"It lasted a year,“ Burt said softly. "It wasn't serious."  
"For you or for him?" Tyler asked, aware of the words between the lines.  
Burt was silent, staring on ahead.  
"I wasn't young and innocent," he finally said. "He wasn't my first and I was already married at the time."  
"Still it meant something."  
A soft exhalation of air. "What I felt back then… it’s not what I feel with you.“  
Tyler stood speechless. A monumental confession from Burt Gummer and he knew he wouldn’t get any more. Closing the distance between them he reached up and pulled the taller man into a kiss.  
"Love you,“ he whispered.  
Burt smiled, his good arm around Reed’s waist. They simply stood together, hidden from view by the truck, and Tyler felt the tension slowly leave his lover's body.  
Someone was approaching, sand crunching under light steps, and both men separated. Nancy must have seen the intimate moment anyway because she was smiling.  
"You okay, Burt?"  
He nodded.  
Nancy held out the box McBain had left on the window sill. "I think you should take it – even if it's just to use it for target practice."  
Tyler grinned.  
Burt just gazed at the box with utter disgust. Reed took it instead, not opening it. Gummer frowned, then walked into the garage.  
Nancy looked worried, but Tyler gave her a smile. "It'll be okay," he just said.  
"I hope so. He doesn't need this."  
"No. No, he doesn't," Tyler agreed.  
Nancy sighed, then walked to her house. Tyler watched her a moment, then entered the garage. Burt was nowhere to be seen, so Reed walked into the next room that housed his office, as well as his bed and other things. Burt was staring out the window, watching the only road leading in and out of Perfection.  
"Burt?" he asked as he placed the medal box onto his desk.  
Gummer met his eyes, his own expressionless.  
When the past comes back to haunt you, Tyler thought, hating McBain for destroying the little peace the two men had been able to establish since coming back from Coronado.  
"Don't let him get to you," he pleaded.  
"He won't. He hasn't for a long time."  
Yeah, right.  
Tyler approached him slowly and pulled him into an embrace. He knew Burt needed physical comfort, but he would never ask. The man was a post-coital bliss cuddler; that said it all. Tough, hardnosed survivalist Gummer was actually a real softy inside.  
Not that he'd ever tell him.

* * *

Burt Gummer wasn't a man for self-analysis. He had given up on that a long time ago; it brought nothing but sleepless nights and worries all day long.  
Since coming home from Coronado he had done nothing but look at his life. What he had seen wasn't exactly very reassuring; at least not the last fourteen or so days. He had made it back out of hell alive, with Tyler, with his sanity, and still, it felt as if a part of himself had been sacrificed.  
In a way, he mused, he had. He had sacrificed his promise never to work for the government again. It had destroyed his life, his marriage, everything. It had nearly gotten his soul. Now, it had also made a grab for Tyler Reed, the one thing he couldn't afford to lose out here.  
Burt wasn't a man of many words, and he knew he never said it enough to his lover, but he needed Tyler. He had found the man in the most unlikely way – almost accidentally. He wouldn't lose him to something like this.  
I nearly did, he thought. Something had happened in Coronado that had severely spooked his younger lover, something he had issues with, but so far, neither Gummer nor Reed had mentioned it. Burt was a patient man, he could wait. One day Tyler would talk, he was sure of it, and Burt would listen; as he always did.  
Turning sideways as much as his injured shoulder allowed him, he watched the other man sleep at his side. He had done that a lot lately, just sit and watch, marvel at the simple fact that Tyler was with him; loved him. The nightmares were getting less and less, but Gummer knew his lover would be plagued by what had happened for a while to come. Nothing of what had happened could be worked through just like that.  
Reaching out with one hand, he gently pushed back a strand of hair. He loved Tyler's hair, the length, the waves, the way it felt when he carded his hands through it, and how tousled it looked in the morning, falling into his eyes. And he loved the expression in those wide gray eyes whenever he ran his hands through it. Simple gestures and such incredible reactions. Ever since coming home to Perfection, they had become even more important. Whenever he touched his lover, it was as if Tyler needed it, needed the reassurance. Why was anyone's guess. One of those demons…  
Those expressive eyes cracked open and a sleepy smile stretched over Tyler's face.  
"What time izzit?" he mumbled.  
"Too early. Go to sleep," Burt replied softly.  
Tyler gave a little grunt and snuggled close, almost naturally molding himself to Burt's body. He gave a contented little sigh and fell to sleep again almost immediately.  
The older man only smiled, running his fingers through the longish hair.  
You're damn lucky, Gummer, he thought. And whatever happened in Coronado, whatever ghosts and demons had come to haunt his lover, he would wait for Tyler to open up.  
"Love you," he whispered into the twilight of the room.  
   
* * *

Burt got the all clear from the doctor a few weeks after their return, and Tyler had to admit he was really glad about that. Burt hadn’t been such a moody patient as he himself had been once, but the silent brooding wasn’t much better at times. Those had been the times Tyler hadn’t been sure how to approach the other man, or if to approach at all. Burt had regained full control of his arm and the long scar was an ever present reminder for Tyler that he had almost lost him.  
The nightmares had dwindled, but sometimes dreams returned. Those were the times he couldn’t go back to sleep and sat outside, just watching the dark landscape, wondering if it would change.  
He had resumed his tour and while it had been a strain to be there for Burt and earn money with his business, he hadn’t said a word about it. Somehow, the normality of El Blanco was soothing. He was dangerous, yes, but he was something Tyler understood. Now and then he found himself sitting out in the desert, looking at the traces the Graboid had left in its wake, and he smiled to himself.  
Normality. Home.  
Damn, his world was a weird one.

*

Returning from a tour that had been booked solid, Tyler was in a rather good mood. El Blanco had shown himself, the visitors were happy, and Jodi had sold a good amount of souvenirs. He was surprised to find that Burt had apparently been waiting for him—or so it seemed.  
He sat on the little concrete wall that surrounded his own personal “habitat”, the late winter sun throwing long shadows around him. It was the same spot Tyler had sat months ago. Parking his car, he slowly stepped over to his lover, taking a seat at his side, waiting. He knew Burt well enough not to push.  
“Thanks.” Gummer muttered softly after what seemed to be an eternity.  
“What for?”  
“For never asking.”  
Tyler frowned – and then it clicked. It had been in another time and another world, or so it seemed, when he had found Burt’s uniform. There had been a story behind it, and it still was.  
“You’ll tell me when you’re ready,” he said softly.  
After another long minute of silence Burt inhaled, looking at him for the first time.  
“I think that’s now. Special Forces,“ Burt said calmly.  
Tyler looked at the older man, surprise on his features. Not because of what he had said, but because he had said something at all.  
"Figured something as much. Not Special Forces, but not the run-of-the-mill drill sergeant either.“  
Burt looked wryly at him. "The Army was my life for a long time,“ he finally started. "Then I went into Special Ops.“  
"Never happened, can’t talk about it?“ Tyler hazarded a guess.  
"Yes. That kind of work. It was my duty to go in when the shit had already happened, when our men needed to get out. I dealt with military dictators, drug barons, blackmailers and kidnappers, terror groups of all kind and whatever else was out there and a threat to our country. My team went in, eliminated the enemy forces and did everything in our power to get everyone else out. Even after I had left he active service, I was still on call. Each and every mission could be my last. Heather stood behind me, she was my backbone. I couldn’t have done it without her support.“  
"What happened?“ Tyler asked quietly.  
"The last mission I ran… something went wrong. We were supposed to get out the rescue team that had gone in before and who had been captured. I lost my team, barely made it out alive. There was no one to rescue, everyone had already been killed days ago, and our Intel knew it. They sent us in… just for the press. Just to show good will. They sacrificed good men for their image.“  
Burt’s voice was hard, unyielding, and anger wormed itself into it. Tyler saw all the pain and hurt and anger in there.  
"You came out alive.“  
"And it killed me, Tyler. My men were dead, my government denied knowledge of ever giving the orders that had sent us in, and in the end I resigned. For good. Told them where to put their special missions. I retired into the desert, finally stayed home to Perfection without having to leave on secret missions now and then. Just me and Heather – and the townspeople. She put up with everything I threw at her after that – and believe me, that was a lot. I turned into the paranoid everybody accuses me to be.”  
“And then?” Tyler asked quietly.  
“Then came the worms. She even put up with that, and my, err, slight obsession. But not for long. We’ve been divorced for a few years now. After that I turned into the antisocial paramilitary paranoid.”  
Burt was gazing out into the desert and Tyler knew he wasn’t looking at the landscape. The horror of Coronado, of his own past, had taken its toll on Burt Gummer, and he looked more tired than ever.  
Tyler had started to understand an aspect of his lover that had always been a blank area to him. The government had betrayed him, had sent him out on a mission that had been doomed from the start, and ever since, Burt Gummer was wary of everything even remotely connected to the government.  
Tyler carefully laid a hand on his lover’s upper arm. “It’s over, Burt.”  
It earned him a sharp glance from behind dark glasses and a snort.  
“It never is. Next time … ”  
“There won’t be a next time, Burt.”  
“Oh yes, there will.”  
Tyler felt utterly at a loss. He knew Burt was probably right, but he had made a vow back there in Coronado to never allow something like this to happen again, and he had every intention on keeping it. But this wasn’t what the older man needed right now.  
“Whatever happens, I’ll be there.”  
“Through good and bad times, Tyler? I heard that one before.”  
Damn it all to hell!  
Tyler wrapped a hand around the other man’s neck and pulled him close.  
“Stop. That. At once, Burt Gummer. Cynism doesn’t suit you.” And then he kissed him, putting everything into the kiss he hadn’t been able to say the entire time.  
“Hey, where do you think the antisocial part comes from?”  
“Yeah, right. Tell that to your friends.”  
Slipping a hand under all the layers of clothes Burt wore – for whatever reason; Tyler had no idea – he stroked the warm skin underneath, and was rewarded with a soft sigh and a not so soft hungry kiss. Hands were roaming over his body, mirroring his own movements, and he broke the kiss to mutter a single word: 'bed.’  
Burt didn’t disagree. Not a single bit.

 *  
   
 Tyler looked down at the man on the bed, taking in the warm, brown eyes, the slight flush to the suntanned skin, and he leaned forward, kissing those wonderful lips. Burt's hands came up, caressing his sides, and Tyler moved his hips a little, feeling Burt's grip tighten. He drew back a little, settling down on the long legs, smiling. Then he began to slowly unbutton the flannel shirt, like unwrapping a present. Burt's eyes never left him as he reached the t-shirt underneath, grinning cheekily.  
"You wear too many clothes, lover," Tyler murmured.  
Burt pushed himself up on his elbows to help with the removal of the shirt and t-shirt.  
"Like peeling an onion," Reed added. "And the best's underneath all the layers."  
His voice dropped to a seductive whisper, then his lips were back on Burt's. They kissed languidly for a while, enjoying the simple contact, until Tyler started to nibble his way along the chin and down the vulnerable throat. Burt's hands were skimming up his arms and down his sides once more, his body tensing whenever Tyler hit a soft spot.  
Reed smiled to himself and started to slowly undo Burt's belt, then slid the pants off the long legs. He undressed himself quickly, then resumed his position, and just looked at the naked man underneath him. Gentle fingers traced along the still healing scar on Burt's upper arm and Tyler felt something inside of him clench in memory.  
Burt's fingers caught his, drawing his touch away from the red mark. Their eyes met and Gummer interlaced their fingers, squeezing Tyler's hand. Tyler smiled in reply, kissing Burt's knuckles.  
Love you, he thought. Never again. It won't happen ever again.  
His free hand traced over the muscular chest, petting, caressing, stroking… soothing and arousing in one. Burt freed the caught hand and Tyler used it to dually stimulate his lover. From the evidence further south, Burt was very stimulated already.  
Tyler slid down the slender form, nibbling at the soft skin in the process, and when he finally swallowed his lover’s hardness Burt made a soft sighing noise. Tyler smiled inwardly. He knew the other man well enough to understand that this was a sound of high pleasure. Burt Gummer was a very tender and passionate man, but he simply didn’t vocalize his pleasure. So Tyler had adapted, had learned how to read him, and he enjoyed every new lesson. Burt’s hips twitched a little as Tyler continued, and he was starting to breath harder.  
Okay, give it a try.  
Tyler gave all he got and his hands wandered over the body he had got to know so well during the past months. One hand slid between his lover’s legs to tease a little and then – he pushed carefully. Burt was no bottom, but Tyler knew exactly how it felt, and this time he wanted to give this instead of receiving it.  
Burt stiffened under him, and he felt a hand caressing his neck, but the other man didn’t resist his ministrations. Tyler slid his finger a little deeper, heard Burt gasp, the hold on his neck tightened – and then he was where he had aimed for, stroking the spot inside his lover that would give him the most intense pleasure.  
Burt bucked and hissed.  
Tyler did it again. And again.  
And then…  
A suppressed moan.  
“…Tyler… “  
Burt’s voice was hoarse with passion, and he was starting to tremble. Tyler smiled. Applying just a little more pressure, stimulating, caressing, sucking in earnest now, until he could feel every fiber in Burt’s body tense up, heard some panting, almost sobbing sounds, as Burt gripped the sheets, heard him suck in a lungful of air – which exploded in a deep groan as he did just the same, his climax washing over him and through him like a thunderstorm, again and again.  
Tyler glided up the still slightly trembling form of his lover and found himself wrapped into two strong arms holding him close, and a hot mouth plundering his, the deep passion, love and lust in that kiss making him groan.  Burt made a soft noise and then his hand slid between their bodies, fingers closing around Tyler’s hardness. Tyler moaned and deepened the kiss, bucking helplessly into his lover’s hold, feeling Burt’s finger glide and tease, while his other hand weaved into his hair. Then Burt increased his rhythm and all Tyler could do was spread his legs and moan, whimper and sob softly, holding on to his lover until Burt finally allowed him to stumble over the edge.

Lying in Gummer’s arms he felt his lover’s hand tracing languid circles over his back.  
“Wow,” Tyler whispered and claimed another kiss. “Didn’t know you had it in you.”  
“Hm?”  
“You were making noise, Burt Gummer.”  
“Just because I usually don’t doesn’t mean I can’t, Tyler.”  
“Did you train yourself?”  
There was a moment of silence and Tyler wondered if he’d made a wrong move with that question. But then he felt Burt nod.  
“Yes, I think in a way I did. I’m not that vocal anyway, but there are situations where you better don’t catch attention to yourself.”  
“Like in the middle of the Nevada desert to not alert a worm?”  
“Like in the middle of the Vietnam jungle to not alert anybody.”  
Tyler propped himself up on is elbows to look at his lover in  surprise.  
“Man, for a Vietnam veteran you really kept yourself in shape.”  
“I wasn’t in the war, Tyler.”  
“Okay – so when were you in Vietnam?”  
“In another life. And,” Burt reached up to pull Tyler into another kiss, “that’s all I will say about that matter.”  
Tyler snuggled back against his lover, running a hand over Burt’s chest, enjoying the soft tickling of chest hair under his fingers.  
“Tyler?”  
“Hm?”  
“I … I want to apologize.”  
“Whatever for?”  
“Back there in Coronado, we had a fight. I was entirely unreasonable and… I just want to tell you I’m sorry.”  
“You were irrational, Burt, almost self-destructive. I think I understand that now. I was dealing with the Colonel, right?”  
“Yeah, in a way.”  
That was all Tyler needed and, knowing Burt Gummer, all he would ever get.  
It was enough.


End file.
